Cold War
by peteynorth
Summary: Intended to follow 'The Dark Knight'. Rated T for strong language, violence and inuendo.
1. Chapter 1

The burly thugs standing on either side of the door sent periodic glares up and down the deserted street running along the front of the non-descript building in the outskirts of Moscow. It had been a factory years before, but had been long abandoned even before the fall of the Soviet Union. In between glares they'd chat in Russian about the women they wanted and those that they already had, laughing about shared conquests when they came across a name familiar to both of them. They failed to notice the grappling hook launched high above their heads to the roof of the building they were guarding. They also failed to notice the lithe frame silently repelling above them onto the roof.

Inside the building their boss grumbled some jokes in Russian that garnered some laughter from the six associates milling around him. Not finding his own comments as funny as his employees seemed to find them, the crime boss growled out a question in Russian to his number two man. "Sergei, where is this bitch?"

"Relax boss, the Cat said eleven, she's got a few more minutes before she's late." The second in charge replied in Russian.

"A few minutes then." The boss snarled back. "I don't wait for women unless they'll be sharing my bed later, and even then I don't wait too long."

"It's good I'm not late then, because I have no intention of sharing a bed with any of you." A feminine voice called out from the shadows above the seven men in thickly accented Russian. A moment later a woman gracefully dropped to the floor. She was dressed all in black, adorned with a black ski mask, a curled whip on one hip and a small sack on the other, the sack weighed down by whatever she was carrying inside of it. "Now gentlemen, I suggest we get down to business." This statement was in Mid-Western American-accented English.

"You could get yourself killed making an entrance in such a way, woman." The boss growled in thickly Russian accented English as he regained his composure.

"Perhaps, but not this time." The woman replied. "Do you have the money?"

"Da. Do you have the merchandise?" The second replied.

The woman pulled the sack off of her hip and walked over to a table beneath a hanging light in the center of the room. She poured the contents out onto the table, revealing enough high quality jewelry to nearly fill an entire case at Tiffany's. "I think you'll be pleased. A fair bit more here than I promised, and I'm not even going to raise the price on you too much."

"Raise the price?" The second growled. "We brought what you demanded, no more."

"Alright, then I guess I'll need to take back the surplus." The woman shrugged seductively, all her facial features hidden but her green eyes and a stray lock of black hair hanging through the opening of the mask.

"Nyet." The boss interjected. "I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement."

"Glad to hear that." The Cat replied. "Now, let's say we tack on an additional ten percent. The extra jewels warrant much more than that, but I'm feeling very generous, and you gents seem like good people."

"Da, we are very good people." The boss smiled.

"Great. Let's see the money. Seventy five grand US plus ten percent comes to eighty two-five." The woman tensed slightly as the leader of the group began leering at her, a grin spreading across his pudgy face.

"You're obviously a very good cat burglar, but you are not very intelligent." The leader commented as he and his comrades slowly surrounded the woman. "You are alone, and aside from the whip, appear without weapon."

The woman sighed and shook her head sadly. "I was really hoping you guys would play nice." The Cat took a defensive posture, clenched her fists lightly before flinging her fingers forward. Compartments mounted on her gloves, positioned on the back of the second bone of each finger, activated, causing small housings with curved blades to spring forward. The housings covered the woman's fingertips and the claws extending out another inch.

The men looked on with genuine interest for a moment before laughing at the small blades and pulling out side arms. "Da, not very intelligent."

"Me? You're the one who said the whip was my only weapon." The Cat playfully retorted. "Who's eating their words now."

"You'll be eating my bullets unless you take off those gloves...and the rest of the outfit while you are at it." The leader of the criminals laughed, followed by the laughter of his friends.

The Cat put her hands on her hips, doing an excellent job of channeling Mae West as she did so. "Well as much fun as what you guys have in mind would be, I'm afraid I'm going to have to take a pass. Oh, and I'd like to point out that you were wrong about another thing."

"Oh, what's that?" The second in command queried, practically drooling over the covered feminine form.

"I'm not alone." The statement forced the men to pause, at least the three who understood English. The other four paused as they saw their comrades scanning the shadows of the large warehouse. "I brought my pet bird."

"Pet bird?" The leader questioned. With that a lead pipe flew down from the shadows and slammed into the temple of the largest man. The other Russians turned to their collapsing friend as another form flew out of the shadows toward them. Like with the Cat, this individual was sleek, in a bodysuit and wearing a mask. Unlike the Cat, this one was a male, one built like an Olympic gymnast, carrying another lead pipe, and his bodysuit was blood red with a dark green ski mask. The man landed silently in the midst of the criminals, and with movements so fluid they seemed to defy physics, he converted the landing into a series of strikes that first disarmed, then incapacitated the Russians.

The woman took a step to join the fray, but paused as she saw the young man had matters well in hand, using Aikido to throw the six men into a state of complete disarray, cart wheeling to grab the pipe he had thrown at the unconscious seventh man, and then whirling through them with both pipes utilizing skills that would amaze the greatest of Escrima masters. In less than three minutes all of the criminals were on the ground with either broken bones, bleeding heads or both.

"Jesus kid, that was almost impressive." The woman looked over the unconscious thugs that moments ago were intent on violating her. "I'm used to you taking longer."

"Nothing like the combination of lead pipes and puberty to make the knockouts come quickly." The young man remarked as he pulled off his ski mask, his face that of a boy still clearly in his teens and bearing a broad smirk. "You should have seen how quickly I took out the guys outside."

"Don't get cocky, my little Robin." The woman commented as she scooped the jewels back into her sack. "Get the cash."

The boy was already trotting toward a briefcase, tried to open it, noted it was locked, and then pulled out some lock picks and had it open in seconds. "Seventy five. Sorry, no extra ten percent."

"It'll be more than enough to get us to the States in the manner we're accustomed to." The Cat replied as she headed toward the door, opened it and walked past the two unconscious thugs on the ground outside. "This guy was a little too well-connected for Moscow to be safe for us any longer. Plus his colleague will definitely have some feelers out for his mistress's stolen jewelry."

The young man trotted after her, carrying the briefcase. "America, huh. It'll be nice to catch up on my South Park."

"Well, at least now you're old enough to watch that show. Though I'm pretty sure John and Mary are still trying to send lightening bolts my way for this life I've got you leading." The Cat paused for a moment, pondering something before continuing down the dark street. "Look, I don't want you to get too excited about this, but another reason…well, the main reason really, that we're going home is that the other day I may have gotten a lead on him."

"Him who?" The sixteen-year-old boy replied as his eyes darted over the street and the buildings lining it.

"Him."

The boy stopped abruptly in the street and stared mouth agape at the woman, who also pulled off her mask to reveal the beautiful face of a woman in her mid twenties and turned to look at him. "The Beast?"

"Just rumors kid." She shrugged, a sad look coming over her face. "But if there's any truth to them, we'll find the bastard."

A look of hatred came over the boy's face as he started walking again, this time with a vicious intensity. "Let's get going."

--

The dawn broke over Gotham City, enveloping the skyline with a soft warm yellow-orange glow, forcing the darkness to retreat to the alleys, where they would wait until dusk to reclaim what was rightfully theirs. But at that moment the day was taking hold and would stand firm for the next thirteen or so hours. Coleman Reese had been asked to come in early, and was forced to momentarily shield his eyes from the rising sun that was glaring through the window behind the desk of Wayne Enterprises owner, Bruce Wayne. Seated in his desk, looking more attentive than he had ever seen the man, was Mr. Wayne, and standing to his right was Lucius Fox. Reese seemed to shrink under the gaze of who he believed to be the Batman as he took a seat in one of the large and comfortable chairs positioned in front of the desk, and was grateful when Wayne shifted his attention to the double doors that his secretary was now drawing to a close. In that brief moment when their eyes weren't locked, Reese screwed his nerve and decided to take the offensive. "If you were thinking of making me disappear, you should think again. People know where I am, and while I haven't divulged to them the information in my possession, arrangements have been made that they receive this information should they not hear from me."

"Mr. Reese," gone was the intimidating stare, replaced by the more familiar playboy grin. "If I really wanted you dead, and was as competent as the man you think I am, well, you'd be dead and I'd still have my favorite Lambo."

"I don't know whether that's a threat or an attempt to draw gratitude, but whichever it is, it won't work." Reese replied his well-rehearsed response.

"Nor will your attempt at blackmail." Lucius Fox interjected as he dropped a file folder on the edge of the desk. Reese hesitantly lifted the folder and opened it, revealing schematics of some odd cannon-like device. "What you are looking at are blueprints for a prototype water vaporizer. The one that was used in last year's attempt to poison the city; the one that was stolen at roughly the same time that the Tumbler and various other pieces of W.E. property were stolen."

"Commissioner Gordon, and Loeb before him, has been aware that Batman's tank was our Tumbler for quite some time." Wayne smugly commented; the infuriating smirk etched playfully on his face.

"The way that Gordon figures it, an organization calling themselves The League of Shadows, the one that Jonathan Crane was working with, stole these items for their own use." Fox explained. "Apparently, the Batman informed Gordon that he had previous ties to this League, had a falling out, and as they set upon Gotham he opposed them. We're speculating that he laid claim to some of their equipment, including the Tumbler."

Reese shot a disbelieving smile from one man to the other. "Do you really expect me to believe this?"

"No Mr. Reese," Wayne chimed in, the same arrogant smile in place. "We expect you to maintain your belief that I'm Batman. That despite knowing that dozens of individuals with extremely high IQ's spent months of their lives designing, building and testing this vehicle, and that numerous members of the US military examined the blueprints and were in attendance for much of the testing; despite all this I checked out this vehicle out like I would any other company car, dressed like Dracula and used it to drag race all around the city without the expectation that anyone would recognize this thing."

"Trust me Mr. Reese, the men and women who poured their souls into this project would recognize that machine even under a couple coats of black paint." Fox added.

"Well, no offense intended to Mr. Wayne, but he's never been accused of being a stickler for the details." Reese replied to Fox's comment.

"Yes he has." Fox chimed in, drawing Reese's gaze. "By you, when you accused him of being Batman. The Batman can be called a great many things, Mr. Reese, but absentminded isn't one of things I've heard said about him."

"OK, I'll bite." Reese answered, still sounding resolute but with his resolve fading away slowly. "If in fact the Tumbler was stolen like you claim it was, why hasn't Wayne Enterprises made an attempt to recover their property?"

"We have." Wayne snapped.

This gave Reese pause, a pause Fox used to reach over, pick another file up from in front of Bruce Wayne, and plop it down on top of the previous file in front of Reese. The would-be blackmailer lifted the file and opened it. Inside he skimmed over a theft report regarding the Tumbler, and Reese couldn't help but notice that it was dated two days after the water-main incident, over a year ago. "Issuing this was one of my first acts as CEO. Of course, I requested that the GPD drop the report the next day."

Reese's gaze shot up. "Why would you do that?"

"Well, let's just say that we all agreed that Batman was putting the car to better use than we were." Wayne quipped.

Reese chuckled lightly. "You expect me to buy that?"

Fox cleared his throat, putting the chuckling to an end. "Before I give you the real reason, I wish to remind you of the confidentiality agreement that you signed."

"Not that it's carried much weight thus far." Wayne muttered, the comment getting him a stern glance from Fox.

Reese noted the almost scolding way Fox looked at Wayne, and the apologetic grin it elicited. A reaction he would not expect from Batman. Fox returned his gaze to Reese. "Mr. Reese, the water vaporizer fell into a legally gray area. I'm confident that our legal team would be able to prove no wrong doing on our part in any court of law, but it would still be a PR nightmare. And so would the questions regarding Wayne Enterprises ability to protect itself against industrial espionage. The misappropriation of the Tumbler would be an even greater thorn in our side as it was still unaccounted for at that time. I evaluated our options and decided to let sleeping dogs lie. That is why I rescinded the police report."

"Very good gentlemen." Reese replied, smiling. "I figured you guys would go with threats, you are a cop-killer according to the news reports after all. But I did take into account that you may try and convince me I was wrong. I've done my research though. I know that Mr. Wayne's parents were murdered before his very eyes, and that he was enrolled in various martial arts schools from then on until going away to Stanford."

"The death of my parents was very traumatic, I'm not going to lie. And I wanted revenge against the man who took them from me. But watching he himself get shot in front of me had a souring effect on my desire for revenge. Besides, horrific acts of violence affect a great many people. I know several other people who've watched loved ones get murdered, but as far as I know, there's only one Batman." Wayne somberly noted, but took a more light-hearted tone as he continued. "As for me taking martial arts, well, so did every other rich kid in the United States. It was either Karate or Polo, and I've always been leery of horses. I really hope you uncovered more than this."

"Well, during the seven years you went missing, there were some reported sightings of you. Including one in Italy, with a circus. Given the reports, they had an aerialist that some claim was the best in the world, someone that the future Batman would want to train under." Reese was reaching. Yes, he had done as much research as possible regarding Wayne's missing years, and yes, there had been a report placing him at a traveling circus, or at least an Englishman, an easily faked accent, of his age with his general description and reportedly a great deal of disposable money. But by the time a reporter could catch up to the circus the Englishman was long gone, and the members of the circus refused comment. Hardly a smoking gun, but other than the Tumbler schematics, Reese had nothing linking Wayne to the Batman.

"Mr. Reese, I swear on the graves of my parents that I never received tutelage from an acrobat in Italy." Bruce Wayne peered into Reese's eyes with absolute earnestness. The room was frighteningly silent for over a minute as Reese's conviction waned, and doubt regarding Batman's true identity filled his mind. Wayne finally broke the silence. "I think we're done here. First off Mr. Reese, for intended breach of your confidentiality agreement and your attempt to blackmail me, I have no choice but to terminate your employment here at Wayne Enterprises. Secondly, despite your termination, you are still bound by your confidentiality agreement, so publicizing information regarding the Tumbler's specifications or any other piece of Wayne Enterprises' property will be met with severe legal recourse. Third, any claim that I am the Batman with also be met with sever legal recourse. Mr. Fox and I have answered all of your accusations, providing the necessary explanations to counter them, and I can provide you with witnesses that will confirm my whereabouts at times when the Batman has been reportedly seen. But despite being able to prove beyond any reasonable doubt that I am not the Batman, an accusation from a person of your intelligence and public standing will carry a great deal of weight. No doubt enough to convince criminals that it would be in their best interest to take me out. The police may take the evidence to the contrary into account, the criminal element likely won't, and for the rest of my life I'll have a target painted on me. So please realize that I will devote every resource at my disposal to making you pay should you decide to pursue these outlandish claims of yours." The silence returned, again lasting roughly a minute before Reese shifted his body and opened his mouth to say something. Wayne didn't give him the chance to say those words. "Go clean out your desk and get the hell out of my building."

A look of anger crossed Reese's face, but he stood up and headed for the door, slamming it shut as he departed. Bruce swiveled his chair around and peered over the Gotham skyline. "Do you think he bought it?" Lucius asked as he picked up the files that Reese had left.

"No. But I think we filled him with enough doubt so that he'll hold his tongue. At least until he finds more evidence anyway." Bruce replied.

"Yes. That bit about you training in Italy revealed just how desperate his case was." Lucius chuckled.

"Actually, he was right about me traveling with a circus through Italy." Bruce replied.

Lucius cocked an eyebrow as he lowered himself into the seat that Reese had left vacant. "Wow, I knew you could bullshit with the best, but that was a very, very convincing lie."

"It wasn't a lie." Bruce replied as he continued peering through the window, getting lost in his thoughts. "I was training with an escape artist. The acrobat had no interest in dealing with me initially. He was Roma, a Gypsy, kind of old-world about it with certain things, and liked to keep his contact with non-Roma to a minimum, well, with the exception of his wife. It took weeks just to get him to talk to me; weeks along with the promise of a small fortune. With the help of his kid I eventually did get him to agree to train me, but...it just wasn't meant to be." Wayne vanished into his thoughts.

--

A bearded man in his fifties watched as a twenty-one-year-old Bruce Wayne, who had a shorter beard, hung upside down from rope tied to the thick branch of a tall tree. Wayne's wrists were bound together over, or rather given his inverted position, under his head, a chain trailing from the shackled wrists and connected to a large rock, which dangled a couple of feet off the ground. The older man watched as the young Wayne tested the ties of both his wrists and ankles with mild struggling before taking a look of relaxed meditation. Wayne's stomach started gyrating, and soon the gyrations carried up to his throat before his mouth started working on something within. A moment later his tongue was slowly pushing a metal pick into place between his lips.

Turning his head to look down, he paused for several moments, taking time to get his aim and timing just right. The pick fell from his lips, dropped through the air, and was pinched between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. With the weight pulling his hands down, it was very difficult for him to maneuver his fingers into position to pick the lock on the shackles, but after several minutes of contorting and struggling, Wayne finally got the pick in the lock and after another thirty seconds one wrist was free. A few more seconds and the rock, chain and shackles slammed into the ground below. Wayne's clamp-like stomach muscles and flexible legs allowed him to bend up and easily maintain a comfortable position for him while he untied his ankles. Finishing off the knot with one hand, Wayne grasped the rope with the other and held his body aloft as his feet fell and swung beneath his torso.

He smiled at the older man as he released the rope and landed on the ground. "How was that?" Wayne asked with a perfect incorporation of Alfred's British accent as his fairly long hair fell over the top portion of his face.

The old man smiled and nodded. "This is where I keep how impressed I am to myself and tell you that you need a great deal more work. Somehow I doubt I'd be able to convincingly do this though."

"Yeah, not bad for a gadje." Both men turned and looked at a nine year old boy sitting on a branch of another tree that sat seven feet off the ground.

Bruce looked for lower branches that the boy must have used to get up there, but didn't see any. He ignored the question of how the kid got up there and replied. "You're an American?"

"Yup. Our contract with RBB and B ran out, so Dad brought us here. He really wants to take a shot at re-connecting with his roots. We head for Hungary next month, that's where he grew up." The kid replied. "So you're the guy whose paying Zatara here buku bucks to teach you to be an escape artist, huh? You should be giving some of that money to a barber."

Bruce chuckled, reached up and offered his hand. "Tom Alfreds."

The boy shook the hand firmly. "Dick Grayson. And Zatara teaches me his tricks for free." The child smiled and hoped off the branch. Wayne was surprised at how gracefully the boy descended to the ground. The dark haired boy sprinted through the trees, sprung at a boulder that was about shoulder height to him, planted his hands on the top of it and propelled himself into the air, doing a lightening fast pair of somersaults before landing on his feet and continuing his sprint toward the large tents being put up in the distance.

The two men watched, impressed at Dick's athleticism. "In five or six years, that boy will be the greatest acrobat I'll have ever seen." Zatara commented. "And I've seen them all."

"I take it his father is his teacher." Bruce asked, and though he wasn't looking at Zatara, he somehow knew the older man was nodding. "I wonder if the elder Mr. Grayson would be willing to take on another student."

"Maybe, but I doubt it." Zatara commented. "John's a friendly enough guy, but he's very protective of his family and friends, and isn't one to allow an outsider into his inner circle. It's a Gypsy thing."

"I'm not asking to be admitted into his inner circle, I just want him to teach me a series of techniques and skill sets." Wayne countered.

"I see." Zatara smiled. "The Flying Graysons don't see what they do as a series of techniques and skill sets. Flying is in their blood. It's their legacy. And they view it as something only they can do at their level. The Graysons have been the greatest aerialists you've never heard of for generations."

"I appreciate that, but I'll still get him to teach me." Bruce smiled. "All it takes is a little finesse, and six or seven figures."

--

"A productive morning Master Wayne?" Alfred asked as he held the rear passenger side door of the Rolls Royce open for his employer.

"Somewhat Alfred." Bruce replied as he slid into the car and the door shut behind him. A few moments later Alfred was sliding into the driver seat. "Productive on your end?"

"Why yes sir, I would say it was." Alfred smiled as he pulled the car out toward the Wayne Enterprises parking lot exit. "It seems you were not the only one to be holding a meeting today. The recording from the bug you planted in the Little Odessa restaurant is set up for your perusal in front of you, but the long and the short of it is that the remnants of the Russian mob are being consolidated under the leadership of some newcomer. An old KGB strongman, both figuratively and literally from what I understand."

Bruce raised the headphone connected to a small listening device to his ear. "How long ago was this recorded?"

"About three hours ago sir."

Bruce hit play on the device and listened to the recording. A moment later the gruff voice of a young man, one with a New Jersey accent could be heard.

"Alright, we're here. You've got five minutes."

The response was from a man with a thick Russian accent. "Do not act tough with me, Sascha, I gave you your start, don't make me give you your end."

"Fine, what is it that you want to talk about Uncle Nicolai?"

"The Chechen's demise has created a vacuum, and the man to fill that vacuum has finally arrived."

"No way. Falcone's gone, Maroni's gone, and the friggin' clown is bouncing around a padded room. I like this answering to no one. We've all carved out our pieces, we're all too small for the bat to give a shit about; I like things the way they are."

"Nyet. This will not last. The pieces always get gobbled by someone, I want for that someone to be one of us." The voice of the immigrant replied.

"So who are you suggesting, another comrade from Mother Russia? Let me guess, another one of your pre-Glasnost pals?"

"Sort of. His name is Anatoli Knyazev. He will crush our competition, he will crush the bat, and he will keep the police in line. And should the Joker ever get out of Arkham…" cruel laughter. "The Beast will dismember him with his own bare hands."

"The Beast?" The young man sounded surprised and suddenly awe-struck. "You're talking about the KGBeast?"

"Da."

"Govno, I thought he was just a legend to impress the kids of the Polit Bureau."

"Nyet, he is real. Trained from birth to be Mother Russia's scalpel. But the capitalists gutted the Soviet Union just as his training was completed."

"Damn. Look, Nicolai, if it's really the Beast coming to run the show, then I'll fall into line. I'm not stupid enough to oppose him."

"Good. Spread the word, and compile a list of non-Russians that have proven useful. People we'd like to keep around afterward."

Bruce pulled the earpiece from his ear and leaned back in his seat, a frown spreading across his face. "A new player Master Wayne?" Alfred asked.

"There will always be new players Alfred." Bruce gave a thoughtful look at the man driving his car. "Though this may not be so much a new player as another crack at an old one."

--

Twenty-one-year-old Bruce Wayne jogged through the chaotic scene of circus tents and other structures being put up in a large field. He smiled as he caught sight of a lean, muscular man in an acrobat's leotards walking ahead toward the largest tent, which appeared to be fully constructed already. "John! John Grayson!"

The acrobat turned, displayed an exasperated smile and shook his head as he continued on his way toward the big top. "You're very persistent Mr. Alfreds." His English was excellent, though he had a slight Hungarian accent.

"Well sir, it's been known to pay off from time to time." Bruce smiled as he caught up to the man who was eleven years his senior.

"You're also obviously not used to hearing the word no either, are you?" The man continued to intently walk toward the tent.

"I hear it all the time." Bruce joked. "I just don't accept it as a final answer."

Grayson stopped and turned to face Bruce directly, peering at his face several seconds before talking. "My boy likes you. More importantly, he trusts you." John crossed his arms. "He may be a child, but Dick's a better judge of character than anyone I've ever known. His vouching for you speaks volumes."

"You've got a special boy, Mr. Grayson." Bruce replied. "He's a great kid, and I don't think I've ever seen anyone with the God-given gifts he has."

"John!" The men turned to see a beautiful dark haired woman a year or two younger than John approaching them, a cell phone held to her ear. "Have you seen Dick? His favorite cousin is on the phone."

"Don't you mean his only cousin?" John smiled. "Sorry, haven't seen him Mary."

Mary directed her attention back to the phone. "Sorry Selina, our little Robin has flown the coop. If I can catch him prior to the show I'll have him give you a call. Otherwise we'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" John asked, startled.

"Yup, bye Cuz." The woman pushed a button on the phone to end the call before addressing her husband. "Yes, she's leaving Paris tonight and should be here tomorrow afternoon." Mary smiled.

"I can only imagine what the Louvre will find missing tomorrow morning." John grumbled. He then looked and smiled at Bruce. "Mary's cousin has developed a bit of a reputation for having sticky fingers."

"John!" Mary grumbled. "Keeping dirty laundry unaired isn't just a Gypsy thing you know."

"I thought you American women loved nothing more than to talk about your family problems." John flashed his wife a smile that instantly melted her anger. "Besides, with Mr. Alfreds here joining our training regimen, he's bound to hear much more than just the antics of your cousin."

Mary gave Bruce and then her husband a quizzical look. "Excuse me?"

"Mary, meet Thomas Alfreds. In the matter of two weeks Mr. Alfreds has picked Zatarra's bag of tricks clean while fattening the old man's wallet."

"And you're planning on having him empty our bag and fatten our wallet too?" Mary arched an eyebrow at her husband as she shook Bruce's hand.

John smiled at both her and the young man he was letting into his little circle. "I'll let him pick out just enough tricks to take care of Dick's college tuition."

Mary's face lit up. "You mean…"

"I've been thinking about it." John shrugged. "I may not see what the big deal college is, but even I can't deny that Dick is smart, and can offer the world much more than I ever could."

"He's well beyond smart." Bruce offered. "Whether you train me or not I would like to ensure that his post secondary education is covered."

"Why would you offer such a thing to a child you barely know?" A suspicious Mary queried.

"Because he may yet be what I could have been." Bruce replied introspectively. "He is gifted, and he is loved." The young American pretending to be English seemed to awake from his reverie and smiled at the parents. "I just want to ensure he has any tools he may need to become what he has a chance at becoming."

"Well, here he comes now." John looked through a small crowd and smiled at the boy making his way through it.

"And he's got a shiner." Bruce noted, slipping out of character for a moment.

"What?" John suddenly became enraged. "Dick, come here!"

The child trotted over, knowing full well that the three adults had noticed the bruise under his left eye. "Yes Dad?"

"What happened to your eye?" The father demanded.

The boy sheepishly looked around. "There was a man in Mr. Haley's trailer, I heard them yelling. I went to the door just as the other man came walking out, and he back-handed me out of the way."

"Son of a bitch!" John snarled. "Where is this man?"

"He's gone Dad." Dick replied. "I watched him walk to his car and drive away. I asked Mr. Haley about him, and Mr. Haley just said he was a walking pile of elephant excrement, not to worry about him, and then started fussing with my eye." Dick lifted an ice pack he had been holding at his side. "It's just a small bruise, it won't be noticeable for tomorrow's show."

"To hell with the show, nobody has a right to lay their filthy hands on you!" The still-furious father growled. "I will have a talk with Mr. Haley about this man." Judging from the increasing rage within John Grayson, Bruce was beginning to think that the stereotype regarding a Gypsy's temper was more than just a stereotype. "And I will find him and discuss his actions with him tomorrow."

"Dick, were you able to hear anything that was said inside the trailer?" Bruce calmly asked the boy.

"Most of it was muffled, I couldn't make much out. They spoke in English, but the man was Italian from his accent." The boy replied thoughtfully. "Something about the Beast's cut, that Mr. Haley should be careful, accidents happen all the time. As he left he said Mr. Haley would change his mind. He then drove off in an old eighties' style Mercedes."

"Were you able to get the plates?" Bruce asked.

"There weren't any." Dick answered.

Bruce directed his attention back to the enraged father. "John, listen, this man, whoever he is, is very likely connected to organized crime. You definitely should not go after him, at least not without some sort of plan. I'd even recommend that Haley put the show on hold, maybe even skip this city."

Grayson glared at Wayne. "I appreciate your concern, Tom, but butt out. The man struck my child, by day's end tomorrow his blood will be spilled."

--

"Look Jim, I get that they were dirty, but they were still cops!" The Mayor grumbled across his desk at the Commissioner of Police. "I was OK with Loeb putting this guy on the backburner before, but he's killed now. He's a damn cop killer now! You need to bust his ass, and do it soon!"

"Your honor, believe me, I understand, but catching him is much easier said that done. I need for him to make a mistake, and he's not prone to making those." Gordon replied.

"You know, I've got a friend who's a guard at Arkham." The large police Sergeant who accompanied Gordon to the Mayor's office commented. "He says that the Joker insists that Harvey Dent is the one who killed Ramirez, Wertz, Maroni and the other scumbags, not the Batman."

The mayor peered intently at Gordon, noting the discomfort visible in the Commissioner at the comment. The Mayor then leaned forward. "I've heard the same thing from a couple of the psychiatrists that have met with him. There were no witnesses to the murders, what's your take on this rumor Gordon?"

Gordon paused a moment, clearly torn on what to say, but finally and forcefully delivered an answer. "I will not let the ramblings of a madman tear down a fallen hero."

"Yeah, but Commish, given his behavior after waking up, what happened to him, and the fact that everyone who was killed was on his shit list; pardon my French." The Sergeant offered as he apologetically glanced at the Mayor.

"Drop it Bullock." Gordon snapped at him, before looking down, taking a deep breath and continuing. "Batman killed those people, alright."

Gordon's demeanor, and not his words were what swayed the Mayor and Bullock. Despite his half-hearted efforts to keep them from it, they now knew the truth. Batman was not a killer, Dent was.

"Jesus Jim, you let him take the blame for Dent's crimes?" Mayor Garcia was stunned.

Gordon peered down at the floor. "I tried to persuade him not to, but it was something he insisted on, and God help me, I went along with it." The Commissioner looked up and noticed the look of scorn on the Mayor's face. "The city is on the brink sir. The people need a hero. Someone beyond corruption in every way; someone like the way Harvey is being remembered."

"Well, we need to figure out the best way to do it, but one way or another, we need to come clean." Mayor Garcia insisted.

"Sir, believe me, perpetuating this lie has been eating at me since Batman concocted it, but…"

"Enough." The Mayor waved his hand across his desk to silence the Commissioner. "Look Jim, I appreciate what he was willing to do, and your desire to let people remember Dent as some sort of knight in shining armor, but the fact is that this city is better off with the Batman in it, and once the truth gets out about him being innocent of those killings, we can get back to sitting on our hands when it comes to catching him."

"With all due respect your honor, I don't think the city is better off with Batman. The police are more than capable…"

"Bullock, my respect for the GPD is growing with each passing day, but the good Batman does for Gotham goes well beyond fighting crime. He's been nothing short of a Godsend for tourism, and like it or not, until these killings that he was blamed for, the public felt more comfortable with him around. Hell, even with the killings most people still want him around." Mayor Garcia stood up and started walking around his desk toward the two men. "Unless you can show me millions in revenue brought in by tourists making pilgrimages to spots where Harvey Dent had confirmed sightings, I'm afraid we're going to have to put this lie to rest." He walked past the men and left his office.

"Yes sir." Gordon replied to the now departed mayor.

--

"Thank you all for coming." The well-dressed elderly man addressed the others around the table in Italian-accented English. "We all know why we're here, yes?" The other members acknowledged their understanding with grunts. "The other groups lament the interference of this Batman, or that the police are getting less and less compliant. We must not see these things as problems. We must rise above this and see this as the opportunity that it is. As troublesome as this Batman has become, he is just one man, or at the least, a small group of men. And once this Batman is eliminated, the police will fall back into line and the status quo will be restored. But during this turmoil is when we need to make our move and capitalize on things. We must regain control of our city, eliminate those that have been muscling in on our territory over the past couple of decades, and fortify our position so that it can never again be lost."

"My plan exactly." The men at the table froze, trying to determine where the thickly Russian-accented statement had come from. A moment later a huge black form burst through the ceiling tiles and landed on the elderly man that had called the meeting together. The darkly clad figure rose to his feet, feet that were planted securely on the crushed body of the old man. The man, who was several inches over six feet in height and immensely built, peered through the eye slits of a black mast at the other Italian Mafia captains. "I will utilize many of your soldiers, but I have no need for the upper ranks of your organization." With that the Russian raised his right hand, revealing a large automatic firearm.

The other Italians stood up from their seats and pulled out pistols. "Who'd a guessed that the Bat was a Ruskie?"

"Da, I thank you for reminding me." With his left hand, the Russian reached into a compartment on his belt, pulled out a bat-shaped throwing blade, and tossed it on the table. The moment it bounced on the polished tabletop he opened fire. The startled Italians returned fire, but with impossible ease the Russian hoisted the heavy wooden table up to offer protection and a distraction. Utilizing the fluidity that comes with years of the most intensive combat training, the masked Beast worked through the small room killing the other men with his firearm and a deadly blade he pulled from a sheath strapped to his back, the few bullets that connected with him were stopped by his body armor. Within moments the skirmish was over, but the moment it ended the door burst open and various bodyguards charged in. The Beast dove for them and proceeded to butcher them as he had their bosses. It was over in seconds. The blood covered warrior coldly walked down the stairs and out the front door of the building, casually disappearing into the night.

--

"You know, we could of left Russia awhile ago." The handsome teenager remarked to the beautiful woman sitting next to him on the landing plane. "We had plenty of money, even before our last score."

"We don't touch that money, you know that." The woman replied with a smile on her face. "Your folks would have a big problem with the way I've chosen to raise you, but they'd come back as zombies and drag me back to the grave with them if I dipped into that fund for any purpose other than your college. Which reminds me…" The dark haired woman reached into a bag on the floor between her legs and pulled out a thick SAT study guide and dropped it on the boy's lap. "I was going to wait until we were settled before dropping this on you, but since we're on the subject…."

The boy groaned. "Come on Selina, you're not really going to make me go to college, are you? You've taught me more than any school I could have attended; seriously, how many sixteen year olds speak six languages, have a firm grasp on calculus, and can dismantle and reassemble a car engine?"

"Yeah, you've got some serious skills Dick. Stuff comes easy to you, too easy for me to be your only teacher." Selina replied to the young man's protests. "Knowing how to bypass state of the art security systems is great and all, but you need some culture. You know, Shakespeare and shit."

"I've read Shakespeare's plays." Dick answered.

"When?" Selina asked skeptically.

Dick shrugged. "I had a lot of downtime while you were casing potential jobs, and there was usually a library not far from wherever we were staying. I did some independent learning in addition to the curriculum you laid out for me. Escapism really, not the picture-less porn you like to read to escape, but still escapism."

"It's not porn, and there's not much else at airport book stores." Selina defended.

"Apparently there is." Dick motioned to the SAT study guide.

"I bought that the last time we were stateside. Been holding on to it because you weren't really old enough to be bothered with it at the time. But who knows the next time we'll be in country, so might as well get your testing out of the way while we're here."

"I'll make you a deal Selina." Dick replied, a serious expression coming over his face. "I'll study and take the SAT, but not until we get the Beast, OK?"

Selina nodded as the plane taxied to the terminal. "Deal."

--

"Look Commissioner, I don't want to believe it either, but it looks like this was done by one man, the rare if not unique type of man capable of pulling this off alone, and we've got one of his toys right here." Bullock explained to Gordon as the older man walked into the battle-torn room that had held the interrupted Mafia meeting an hour before. "He may be innocent of the other murders, but I'm forced to think he did this."

"I didn't do this." Gordon, Bullock and two other cops taking pictures of the crime scene spun toward the open window and watched as Batman entered through it.

"I know." Gordon groaned as he pushed past Bullock and walked toward the dark vigilante. "Relax!" The Commissioner growled at the two uniformed officers as they started to intervene in some way. Once he reached Batman's side, Gordon continued in a whispered tone. "The Mayor is going to reveal that Harvey killed those you've taken credit for killing."

"No. Dent's legacy must…"

"It's out of my hands." Gordon interrupted. "And quite frankly, I'm relieved that this farce is coming to an end. You're no killer, and once this lie is ended these guys won't be so quick to shoot you." Batman looked past Gordon and noted the anger-filled glares of the two uniformed officers. He also noted the annoyed look of disdain from Bullock, though going by the conversation he walked in on, Bullock was aware of the truth as well. He then looked down at Gordon's hand as the Commissioner raised it to show something he was holding. A bat shaped blade, very similar to one he would use. "Someone's trying to set you up."

Batman looked over the crime scene, noting the dead and their likely causes of death. "I think I know who. Expect the Russian mobs to consolidate power and make a push." Batman's attention seemed to fixate on one particular victim.

Gordon, and the other three officers turned to look at what had caught the vigilante's attention. "Who do you think…" the Commissioner turned back to Batman and noted he was already gone. "God I hate that."

-

Batman scrambled up the fire escape to the roof and sprinted to the other side of the building. He halted, fired off a jump line, and swung into the night, landing on the roof of a building across the street. He made his way over several blocks in the same manner before kneeling on the ledge of a building over an alley. Pulling out special goggles, he peered in every direction before descending into the alley. Once on the ground he once again surveyed the area with the goggles before pulling out a hand-held electronic device and scanned the alley for any electronic signals. Detecting nothing unexpected, Batman put his equipment away and made his way to a small stairway that led to a door in the back of a dilapidated building. A keypad was next to the door, and after punching in a code the locks could be heard disengaging, and the Batman disappeared into the building.

A few minutes later a mustached man in a gaudy suit exited through that door. His complexion was a bit darker, but close scrutiny revealed the man to be a disguised Bruce Wayne. Wayne spoke into a cell phone as he made his way out of the alley. "Hey it's me. Yeah, I'm ninety percent sure it's him. There aren't too many people that could have done what was done, but it'd be easy for him if the legends are even remotely accurate." He trotted across the street and stopped at a mid-90's era blue Corvette. He got in and the car's engine thundered to life, pulling from the curb and making its way down the street. "No, I haven't dealt with him directly, like most bosses he likes to delegate, but from time to time, when a situation warrants or requires his personal involvement, he's all too happy to get his hands dirty. Massacring rivals is worthy of his attention, cutting some rope wasn't I guess."

--

"Yeah, she's spending the summer backpacking around Europe before going to UCLA." A young Dick smiled up at the man he knew as Tom Alfreds, the two of them in the entranceway of the large tent, their voices subdued so as not to disturb the throngs of people enjoying the show. "She got a full gymnastics scholarship. Even Dad says she's pretty good, and he never compliments anyone unless they're really, really good."

"And she's here now?" Bruce asked, returning the boy's smile. He liked the kid, he wished he could say that the boy reminded him of himself at that age, but Bruce had been possessive, insistent, arrogant; he had been a spoiled rich kid. Perhaps Dick was insistent in his own way, but it was a nice way, and his cockiness could definitely be construed as a form of arrogance, but again, it was nothing if not charming. He could not, however, be considered possessive, which was very good given that he and his family barely had a pot to piss in. But at least he would be able to have a top-notch education should he want it. Even with his nomadic lifestyle and the limited educational material at his disposal, his mind was such that with minimal effort he'd be able to get into any institution he wanted.

"Yup, she showed up just before the show started." Dick replied as he started stretching.

"How come you haven't seen her yet?"

"She doesn't want to distract us. I don't get it, I never get distracted, but Mom and Dad need to focus on their performance, so I'm outvoted." The kid chuckled lightly. "By the way, don't get any ideas."

Bruce cocked his head, slightly confused. "What do you mean?"

"She's hot." The nine year old replied as he continued stretching. "But she'll mess you up. Been in martial arts since she was born. Tae kwon do and Hap ki do, at least until her parents were killed. Her foster father was a pro boxer and wrestled in college, and taught her a whole bunch too. So yeah, she'll mess you up."

"Dick, come on!" Both Bruce and Dick looked up to see Mary waving her son over to her and calling out in a hushed tone. "It's almost time for us to go on!"

"Gotta go!" The kid sprung away. "See ya' later Tom."

"I look forward to it." Bruce turned and walked to the edge of the seats, leaning against a railing and watching the show. Off in the shadows he watched the family of three climbing up the thick pole toward the trapeze stand.

Several minutes later the ringmaster directed everyone's attention to the now spotlit family standing on a platform one hundred feet off the ground. His booming voice introduced the Flying Graysons in Italian, and the father, mother and child each took a bow. John gripped the bar of the trapeze and a moment later was flinging his body into the air. As he reached the end of his arch he released the bar, did a double somersault and caught another bar that was thrown to him by an assistant perched on the opposite pole that he had just jumped from. Bruce watched intently, evaluating the potential benefits of these abilities in his future war on crime, though still very uncertain as to what form that war would take.

Bruce's attention to the aerial show was diverted as a sliver of the late afternoon light cut into the tent. In a more upscale show there would be a tunnel to prevent departing patrons from letting in the distracting sunlight, but Haley's traveling circus was most definitely not upscale. Bruce peered at the offender and noticed it was a man, one who seemed to want to be noticed as he merely stood there holding the flaps open to allow the light in. The man was staring up at the Graysons, a malevolent grin on his face. Bruce seemed to relax as he noted a roustabout approaching the man, undoubtedly to ask him to close the flaps. The roustabout, who was a good four inches taller and a good deal more muscular than the man paused as the man leisurely opened his jacket to show him something. The large roustabout timidly backed away and quickly headed as far from the man as possible.

Bruce turned up to see Dick take the bar and launch himself out toward his father, who was hanging upside down from his own trapeze. The boy swung back and forth a few times, building up momentum, before releasing his grip, hurtling his small body into the air, and spinning a somersault four times before reaching out to catch his father's waiting wrists. The crowd went wild, and Bruce took the opportunity to head toward the man. Unfortunately, the man was on the other side of the tent, and it would take Bruce several minutes to reach him.

John Grayson swung backwards and all but placed his son on the platform behind him. Dick took a bow and smiled at the crowd. It was then that he noticed the man illuminated by the sunlight, and a look of terrified recognition came over the boy's face. Bruce saw the look and immediately understood its significance. It was the man who had threatened the circus, and he was still focused on the family of acrobats. "No." Bruce whispered as he looked up at Mary Grayson leaping into the air as her son did and swinging to build momentum toward her husband. Bruce analyzed the situation and determined the most likely ways a mobster seeking protection money would go about sabotaging an acrobatic show. The ropes. Bruce looked up, and though it was difficult to make anything out with the rapid movement of the ropes and the lack of lighting above the performers, he was able to see that one of the ropes holding up John was thin and growing thinner by the second. "Shit!" Bruce started running toward the pole, waving his hands in a futile attempt to get the attention of the Grayson couple. "Mary, no!" But the lingering cheers for Dick's performance drowned his cries of warning out.

But there were still the nets, Bruce realized, slowing his sprint to a trot. He was stopped by a roustabout, who recognized him as the adopted tagalong Brit paying good money to acquire skills from the performers, but he still kept him from getting anywhere near the performance area. Seeing that the net appeared in position, Bruce allowed himself to be stopped, but scanned the intertwined ropes beneath the performers intensely anyway. A ruined performance would only serve to enrage a circus owner, not scare him into paying. An injury or worse would be needed to do that. Bruce finally noticed the small black devices attached to the underside of each rope connecting the large net to the posts. "No. No!" He easily slipped past the roustabout and recommenced his sprint toward the pole just as Mary released her bar and spun three times toward her husband.

It was then that the gangster pushed a remote control detonator, causing each small device connected to the net supports to explode. The net shuddered just as Mary reached out for her husband's outstretched hands. The heavy net started to fall just as John grasped his wife's wrists. The couple began their swing back toward their son, who had turned toward them with extreme worry a few moments before, the prayers his mother had taught him going through his head at a lightning pace for their safe completion of the routine. The rope holding them up finally gave out as they reached the lowest point in their swing, and the two parents plummeted down toward the net that now was uselessly coming to a rest on the hard dirt almost a hundred feet below.

Dick started after them, but the strong arms of the man who had assisted the Graysons wrapped around him, keeping him safely on the platform "NO!" The boy screamed in anguish a split second before the crowd let out a collective gasp. Bruce continued running, but he was too far away to do anything, not that there was anything for him to do at that point. The couple hit the ground with a sickening thud, and their bodies haphazardly splayed out instantly took Bruce back to the murder of his own parents. He slowly raised his eyes skyward and met eyes with the newly orphaned boy. Their eyes locked, Dick's momentarily desperately hopeful. Bruce could only shake his head sadly. "NOOOooooo!" The boy screamed again.

"Don't be afraid." Bruce whispered, having no intention of his words reaching the boy over the distance and commotion. He suddenly remembered the gangster, now a murderer if he wasn't already one. "Bastard." Bruce turned, but the man was gone and hundreds of people blocked his path in the narrow tent. He would not be running the villain down.

"Move!" A young dark-haired woman pushed past him and threw herself at the dead couple, her long hair hiding her face from Bruce. "Mary, John, no!" She landed in a kneeling position and cradled Mary's head in her arms, bawling as she saw the clearly dead faces. "Nooooo."

Bruce looked back up at Dick, and was transfixed by the boy's face. Until that moment he had no way of knowing how he looked immediately following the deaths of his own parents, but at that moment he had no doubt that the face Dick was displaying now was the one he had all those years before.

--

"Lenny! How 'bout them Goliaths, pal?" Sascha Belanov cheerfully greeted the man approaching him. "I told you that you shouldn't bet against the home team. Tied the series at two."

"Yeah, up yours!" The man replied as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of money.

"I love it when they insult me." Sascha muttered to the three friends that were standing with him outside the run-down looking restaurant in the middle of Gotham's Little Odessa section. "It means they've got everything they owe me. They wouldn't dare insult me if they were short."

"If I throw in an extra fiver, do I get to tell you what I'd do to your sister?" The disgruntled gambler grumbled as he shoved the money roll into the gangster's waiting hand.

"Careful Lenny, there are limits." Sascha replied, the ice in his voice subtle but clearly present.

"Yeah, yeah, just kidding." Lenny replied in a much more respectful tone than he had been displaying previously. "You know that."

"Of course I do Leonard." Sascha smiled. "Say, you in the mood for some more action? Maybe a wager on who takes the series?"

"Not now. Lemme run my numbers to determine my picks." The degenerate gambler replied. "Going with my gut just doesn't pay out as well."

"Wiser words were never spoken." Sascha smiled as he counted out the money, and satisfied it was the correct amount, pocketed it. "You know where to find me after you run those numbers." A blue Corvette pulled to a stop on the curb in front of the men. Sascha bent down to look at the driver and smiled as he recognized the man. "Malone, you filthy Irish scumbag, where the hell have you been hiding?"

The disguised Bruce Wayne got out of the car, a well-chewed toothpick in his mouth. "At Lenny's mostly, his wife insists I visit every time he leaves that rats' nest he calls an apartment."

"Bite me Malone." Lenny hissed as he walked away.

Sascha chuckled. "I'm glad to see you and your ugly-ass suit. I was afraid you'd get lost in the shuffle if I didn't get a chance to tell you to lay low during the reorganization."

"Reorganization, huh?" Bruce replied. "Well, whoever's planning to head this reorganization must be really brave or suicidal, 'cause I'm hearing Batman's really gone off the deep end. According to a cop friend of mine, he just butchered the wop elite across town. I came here to let you know that you may want to start laying low too."

Sascha laughed. "It wasn't the Bat. Come on, walk with me." The two men started walking down the sidewalk. "How long have I known you Malone?"

"I dunno, eight, nine months or so. Why?"

"Yeah, not that long." Sascha replied. "But in that time you've proven to be my most valuable supplier of stuff that normally can't be gotten. You're ambitious, you're reliable, and you don't even gouge me too bad on price."

"Another satisfied customer." Bruce smiled. "You know, the best thanks a customer can give is a referral. I learned that in the half semester of community college I took…or was it a commercial?"

"Ah, it won't be too long before there'll be nobody else in Gotham to refer you to other than my immediate associates." Sascha explained.

"I see, the guineas were just a start, huh? Gonna frame Batman for everyone else too?"

"I don't know anything about what's going to happen, just that it's begun, it won't be long before it's over, and I'd like to recruit you and a select few others to the winning team."

Bruce smiled. "Hey, I'm all for being on the winning team. But the only players I know are you and a few other teammates of yours. And no offense, you guys can't fend off the Italian retribution, much less exterminate the other teams."

"A few days ago, you'd have been right." Sascha nodded. "But we've got a new coach. And this coach is the baddest son of a bitch on the planet. Soviet super soldier or something. Was trained to be the Russian James Bond meets the Terminator. That thing that happened to the Italians tonight, he did it all by himself. Outright refused my Uncle's help. Came back with only bumps and bruises. The guy scares the hell out of me; he'll scare the hell out of the Batman too right before he kills the freak. He'll be running Gotham in a matter of weeks."

"This superman have a name?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah, but everyone calls him the KGBeast." Noting Malone shake his head and quietly laugh, Sascha got a little defensive. "Yeah, yuck it up Malone. But you're either with us or with the others. And believe me, the others aren't long for this Earth."

Bruce stopped and shrugged. "So let me get this straight. You want me to cut off every customer I have, save you and your pals. Is that it? Go out of business or die, for no other reason than that a new tough guy has come to town and is promising to muscle out the competition? I gotta tell ya' Sash, that's an old story for any big city, for Gotham it's a daily occurrence. Yeah, the thing with the Italians is pretty impressive, so I'm not going to dismiss your request outright, but you have to understand that I'm gonna need more than you being impressed with your new boss."

"What do you need?" Sascha asked, almost indifferently.

"For one, I'd like to meet this new King of Gotham." Bruce insisted.

"Not going to happen. I've only just met the guy, and I'm way too small a fish to be setting meetings for the man."

"Look Sash, this is my livelihood!" Bruce grumbled. "I'd be better off moving back to Chicago than handing over ninety percent of my clientele to my competition. Now, if this guy is everything you say he is, then I might be willing to consider this, but otherwise I'm not blacklisting anybody, got that?"

"I'll see what I can do."

--

"I've got to hand it to you Cuz, you really know how to live it up." Dick commented as he carried their bags into the opulent penthouse suite in downtown Gotham. "Of course, this might be why our hauls never last as long as we'd like them to."

"Hey, you only live once kid." Selina replied as she entered the living room. "Which bedroom is bigger?"

"Looks like that one." The teenager replied, motioning to one room with his head.

"Then it's mine." The woman sauntered off into the room. "Get some rest Richard, for tomorrow we acquire another haul. We've got a lot of supplies to pick up if we're taking on the Beast, and each of those supplies will have a nice hefty price tag."

"What, bust up a drug deal, break into a gangster's safe, jump a bagman, or something fun?" Dick asked the woman who was shutting the door to her room.

"Well, we are in Gotham City, and Wayne Manor is just getting the finishing touches put on. Security probably isn't set up properly…"

"I'm out." Dick emphatically stated. "I limit my thievery to criminal holdings."

"There's no margin for error with criminals. You get caught, you die." Selina tried to convince the teenager. "Look, it's not like we're taking food out of Wayne's kids' mouths; does he even have kids?" Selina pondered a moment as a smile across her face. She then got more serious. "Look kid, I get you don't like to take clean money, but even Robin Hood didn't limit his actions to criminals. He stole from the rich and gave to the poor. Wayne's rich, we're poor." She smiled as she saw Dick motion to their extravagant setting with his eyes. "Well, we're poorer than him. And Robin Hood would definitely steal from him, right?"

"I'm not Robin Hood."

"Sure you are. You're even named for him, aren't you?" Selina joked.

"Mom gave me that nickname after the bird, not the fable." Dick turned. "And there are plenty of rich criminals in this city."

Selina took a serious look. "I know, but I'd rather not burn any bridges with the underworld yet. We may need to use a bad guy or two to get to the Beast. And chances are we'll need a lot of scratch to take him on, and the only single score that should cover whatever we'll need with an incomplete security system is Castle Wayne."

"But is there anything in there worth taking?" Dick queried. "I mean, they're still rebuilding it from scratch. I don't think he's had time to move the Crown Jewels back in."

"I read in a magazine back in Moscow that he hired specialists to refurnish the place a couple months ago, so I'm sure by now they've loaded it with tons of top shelf shit. I know for a fact that they've already lined the walls with priceless paintings." Selina smiled. "So while it's not like we can toss the furniture in our sacks, there'll still be plenty for us to make off with."

"OK, we'll probably make off with a fair amount." Dick replied. "But I'm still not doing it."

"You do realize that I worked alone for years before letting you tag along, don't you?" Selina smirked.

"Trust me, I can sabotage this for you in a way that won't bust or incriminate you." Dick replied stone-faced. "And I won't lose a wink of sleep over doing it."

"You wouldn't dare!" Selina gasped, but knew that he was serious. Of course, he would only be serious about doing such a thing as long as the sense of morality his parents ingrained into him convinced him it was wrong to break into Wayne Manor. "Look, I get where you're coming from. I really do. And were this, say, his parents, I wouldn't humor the thought for a moment. But Prince Bruce did nothing to earn that fortune, he's done nothing with it to improve the life of anyone else, all he does is burn mansions, crash hot cars and bang mindless bimbos. Maybe by losing some of it he might appreciate what he has to some extent?"

"Don't bother going there." Dick snapped. "He may be a douche, but I'm not going to steal from him."

Selina sighed. "OK, fine. We'll scrap that idea." She opened the door fully and sat down on the plush couch in the center of the room. "I'll start coming up with alternative scores. To get anywhere near what we'd need to get at the Beast we're looking at like half a dozen small heists. It'll take months." She paused and pondered something. "Hmmm, by that time he'll probably have cemented his position here. Will be a lot harder to get at."

Dick's stern eyes fell despondently to the ground. He shook his head before finally responding weakly. "Alright fine, Wayne it is. But even unfinished the manor's going to have state of the art security. We'll need to do our research."

"Oh, I think I have some idea of what they've lined the place up with." Selina grinned playfully as she leaned her head back and peered at her younger cousin.

"You've been planning this for awhile, haven't you?" Dick accused.

"Ever since I read about the rebuilding several months ago." Selina bared a toothy grin. "Way before hearing about the Beast coming to Gotham. I just figured I'd leave you alone for a week or so and have a little fun on my own."

"One of these day's I'm going to have to enroll you in rehab to help you buck your adrenaline addiction."

"Oh, like you're one to talk." Selina eyed the youth warily as she saw him glancing out the large window. "You're going walkabout, aren't you?"

"Yeah, not ready to sleep just yet." Dick shrugged. "Don't worry, I'll stay out of Little Odessa until we have some sort of plan. I've waited this long, what's a few more days?"

--

"No, bushier eyebrows." The traumatized boy peered at the large piece of paper that the clown was drawing on. "Yeah, that's him."

The moment the sentence was finished, a woman's hand reached out and tore the paper from the hard pad that it had been drawn on. "Watch him until I get back!" An eighteen-year-old Selina Kyle barked as she walked out of the trailer, studying the paper as she went.

"Selina, wait!" Dick jumped up from his parent's bed and ran out of the trailer after his cousin. "Wait up, I want to come too!"

"Sorry kid, this is a grown up game." Selina muttered as she continued walking, but stopping suddenly. "Shit, I need a car."

"Language Sel." The despondent child whispered. "How'd you get here without a car?"

"Took a cab from the train station." The woman answered absently as she scanned the area.

Dick looked off to the side and noted Tom Alfreds walking away, jotting something into his notepad as he made his way to his Land Rover. "Maybe we can borrow Tom's car?"

"Who's Tom?" Selina snapped.

"Him. He's Brit tagalong trying to learn circus stuff. Dad was going to train him." Dick pointed at the bearded man walking out of the big top.

"Your Dad didn't train anybody outside the family." Selina commented, but let it drop as she started running toward Bruce, who had just reached his car. "Hey, I need your ride."

"Yeah, so do I." Bruce replied absently as he got into his SUV, but paused as he saw Dick. "Dick, I'm so sorry about what happened. It may seem impossible, but I do know what you're going through."

"Great, then you'll lend me your car." Selina grabbed Bruce's shirt sleeve and tugged at him, more to inspire him to leave on his own than to actually drag him out, but the look on her face made it clear she would be more than willing to resort to that if needed.

Bruce jerked his arm free of the young woman's grasp and peered at her. "I take it you're cousin Selina."

"Good guess Tom-boy, now get out of the car!" Selina delivered a stern glare.

The two kept their eyes locked with intense animosity for several seconds before Bruce broke the standoff. "I have a feeling we've got the same goal in mind. This is something I've had a great deal of training in. You've got nothing but a great deal of rage. That won't get you anything but killed."

"I've got this, Sherlock." Selina held up the sketch of the killer's face.

"Good for you, but I don't need it. I've seen his face." Bruce replied as he shifted into the driver's seat.

"Fine, I'm going with you!" Selina growled as she ran around the front of the Rover and got into the front passenger seat.

Bruce started to protest, but the sound of the rear driver's side door opening and shutting shifted his attention to the boy now seated behind him. "Absolutely not, Dick!"

"Up yours!" The angry boy snarled.

"Get out Dick!" Selina ordered her younger cousin.

"Not going to happen Sel!" Dick crossed his arms. "They were my parents, I'm going! Anyone who tries to get me out will wind up in a wheelchair!"

Bruce turned fully around and silently peered into Dick's eyes. Several moments passed with the two staring at each other, but finally the older man nodded. "You're right. You're in, but you do as I tell you, do you understand?"

Dick stared heatedly at the man. "I don't want him arrested, Tom."

Bruce turned around and started the engine. "Given what I know of the local cops, getting him arrested isn't really an option. And I know exactly what you want, believe me. I'm not going to let that happen either, but I swear justice will be done one way or another."

"Wait, no way is he coming!" Selina protested at Bruce and then turned toward Dick, taking a more empathetic tone. "Look Dickie, I know you want to be a part of this. I know you deserve to be a part of this more than anyone. But you can't sweetheart. You're just too young for this."

"We're not doing what you're planning on doing." Bruce pulled the car forward.

"Excuse me?" Selina questioned. "This is a family matter Tom, just drive the car, keep your opinions to yourself, and you'll get a free dinner out of it."

"I'm not letting you kill him, Miss Kyle." Bruce calmly stated as he pulled onto the gravel road.

Selina turned and glared at Dick. "How much did you tell him about me?" The boy just continued staring ahead, so she turned back to the man knew new as Tom. "How exactly are you involved again?"

"I'm the guy who knows where to find Mr. Zucco." Bruce muttered. "I'm also the guy who's had some degree of training in this sort of thing. Therefore, I'm the one calling the shots."

"Zucco?" Dick asked.

"The man that hit you yesterday. The man that cut your trapeze rope with a six-inch serrated hunting knife. The man who used small, homemade explosive devices to detach your net from its mounting. Devices activated by a detonator that likely utilized a four to seven year old Wayne Tech XE portable radio transmitter. Nine of which were sold within a fifty-mile radius of here within the last two years. Six of those were sold to one Antonio Zucco, the name this man gave Mr. Haley when he tried to extort money from him."

Both Selina and Dick were quiet for a few seconds. "OK, not bad. So is this guy Cosa Nostra?" Selina questioned.

Bruce shook his head. "Used to be. According to a friend I made last year at Interpol, Antonio Zucco was predominantly a freelance assassin before he became a Mafia capo, but my informant believed he jumped ship and has recently been working for a fairly influential Russian mobster. Some shadowy former KGB operative who has steadily been gaining power and expanding out of Russia."

"Do you think Zucco was acting on behalf of this Russian?" Selina asked.

"I intend to find out, which is reason number one why we don't kill him."

--

"Where's the Beast?" The Batman growled as he slammed Nicolai Belanov into the wall of his study.

"What? I've got two dogs." The frightened but not terrified Russian answered. "I'll happily call them for you."

A punch to the stomach doubled the professional criminal over. "The dogs, like your men, are incapacitated. It's just you and me, and anymore smart-ass answers will only get you more of this! Now tell where I can find the Beast!"

Nicolai coughed as he straightened up and peered hatefully into the Batman's eyeholes. "You're a dead man! Until now you could have simply stopped this ridiculous charade, but now, now you will be executed, cut to pieces with your own damn throwing blades!"

"Then let me show you how to properly use them!" Batman snarled as he pulled out a winged throwing blade and lashed out with it, slicing through the left palm of the elder Belanov's outreaching hand.

"Ahhhh, you bastard!" The Russian screamed, but started chuckling a few seconds later. "Do you really think you can intimidate me? You don't kill! I know it wasn't you who killed Maroni! Even your torture only involves injuries that can be fully recovered from! You're a pathetic punk in a mask. Do you really think I'd betray the Beast to someone like you?"

"Excuse me sir?" Alfred's voice came through the com-link in Batman's cowl. "I've detected someone other than guards on the roof of the Heng Wing restaurant, the one you believe to be a front for the Triad."

Batman made no indication of the information he was receiving to the man he was interrogating, all the man noticed was Batman being silent for a moment and then putting his throwing bat away. "Alright Nicolai, I guess you won't be talking after all. I guess I'm going to have to cut you loose. Perhaps a late dinner will offer some consolation, perhaps Chinese." Batman smiled as he noticed Nicolai's eyes grow wide. "I believe Heng Wing is still open." With that Batman began hammering the older Russian, who was unconscious by the second punch but sustained four more before Batman turned to leave and allowed him to fall to the ground with a broken cheek, jaw and some cracked ribs.

--

Three large Chinese men tackled the equally large Beast out of a second story window, the roof of a car parked in front of the building crushed under the weight of the Beast and one of the bodyguards while one of the other guards rolled off the hood onto the street and the other rolled over the trunk. The Beast flung the man on him back into traffic and started to hoist his imposing frame off the top of the car. The other two Chinese guards gingerly got to their feet and turned to re-engage their Russian attacker. The Beast reached toward one, gripped his head, and with a savagely violent twist, broke the man's neck. He then turned and blocked a series of attacks from the other man, grabbed the top of his head, pulled it down, reached over to grab his waist, hoisted him into the air and slammed him with tremendous force onto the pavement. He followed this with three quick stomps to the head, crushing the man's skull beneath his boot. The Beast then pulled out an automatic weapon and shot the third guard who was limping his way out of the street that the Beast had thrown him into. The Russian then marched through the front door of the restaurant that made up the first floor of the building that they had fallen out of.

Patrons streamed out of the Chinese restaurant and ran in all directions through the street, many screaming in terror while others took cover behind cars and pulled out their cell phones. Dick, who was several blocks down the street, had heard the commotion and was immediately drawn to it. It wasn't any of his business, but people may need help. Something that always drove Selina crazy was his need to step in on behalf of anyone needing help. There was no profit margin in do-gooding she would always tell him. He would just smile, shrug, and then go off and do whatever needed to be done. Tonight however, Dick had no one to chastise his potential chivalry.

The teenager sprinted toward the building, which appeared to house a restaurant on the lower level and a series of either apartments or offices above, pausing only a moment as he heard the sound of automatic gunfire coming from within. The site of a woman quickly escorting a preteen daughter out and half dragging half carrying a boy of about seven who was bleeding out of his mid-torso got him moving full speed again. Dick halted and dropped to his knees next to where the mother was laying the child down. She looked pleadingly into the young man's eyes and rambled off something in Cantonese, a language for which Dick knew only a few phrases.

Dick noted a hole in the child's shirt, the apparent epicenter of the bleeding, and reached his fingers into the hole and tore the shirt open. Sure enough, it was a gunshot wound. But after a quick examination Dick determined that the bullet had missed the vital spots. "Here…" Dick pulled his button up shirt off, leaving him in a sleeveless undershirt, and wadded his shirt up and placed it against the wound. "Keep the pressure up."

The woman seemed to get even more frantic, and gestured back into the restaurant. "My other brother is still in there." The daughter, who appeared to be eleven or twelve, explained to the older boy.

Dick turned to her wide-eyed. "Where did you last see him?" But before the girl could answer him a huge crash was heard behind the girl. There, having landed upon the same parked car that had cushioned the Beast's fall was a figure clad in black with small, pointy horns. The Batman rose to his feet and jumped off of the car. "Jeez, he's real?" Dick muttered as the Dark Knight rushed toward them.

"How is he?" The large vigilante almost growled as he quickly examined the corpses of the three guards on the sidewalk.

"Gun shot. Nothing vital hit, just need to control the bleeding until paramedics arrive." Dick fired back.

"Good, keep it up." Batman replied before charging into the restaurant.

"Wait, there's a kid in there!" But the Batman was already through the door. Dick turned to the girl. "Where is your brother?"

"He got scared. He ran back to our table and crawled under it." The girl answered. "Near the back, to the left. A few tables from the kitchen."

"What's his name?" Dick asked as he grabbed the mother's hands and positioned them over the blood soaked shirt he had placed on the child.

"Liu." The girl muttered as Dick leapt to his feet and charged into the building.

Batman was already in the thick of it when Dick charged in, diving behind some upturned tables as the sounds of gunshots echoed through the chaos. Dick peered around his cover to see the vigilante grab the gun-wielding arm of one of the Chinese and break it at the elbow before head butting him and tossing him to the floor. The Batman dove for cover as two more gangsters opened fire in his direction. Two drug-tipped darts embedded into their necks, quickly ending their barrage.

Batman rose from his position and heard the muffled whimpering from across the room. He quickly made his way to a table, pulled away the tablecloth, bent over and saw the four-year-old child hugging his knees and quietly crying underneath. "Come on." The Batman commanded.

The child screamed and pulled away from the outstretched gloved hand connected to the large, demonic creature. "Move!" Dick appeared out of nowhere, the Batman taken aback for a moment by the absolutely silent approach of the boy. "You're scaring him." Dick muttered to him. Batman stared at the teenager's face for a moment, a face that seemed vaguely familiar to the vigilante. Dick knelt under the table and addressed the terrified child in a soothing tone. "Hey Liu, it's OK. Your mom sent me, she asked me to take you to her. She, your sister and your brother are waiting for you outside. Come on, I won't let anything happen to you, I promise." Dick looked up noticed the Dark Knight staring at him. "How about some space?"

Batman straightened and started heading toward the rear of the restaurant. The fighting had begun in the upper levels, carried down to the restaurant, and was now being fought in the kitchen. But before the Dark Knight could reach the kitchen doors three Chinese gangsters charged out, fear and desperation in their eyes. Three quick strikes from the Batman had all of them floored and incapacitated. A moment later the huge KGBeast emerged from the kitchen, an Uzi in one hand and a bloody butcher knife in the other.

Dick scooped the child into his arms and turned toward the door, glancing back to see the two large masked men in black combat armor squaring off against one another. He was almost at the door when he heard the unknown man speak. "I was hoping I would not have to search too hard to find you."

Dick froze. He knew that voice, that deep Russian voice. He turned and stared at the larger of the two costumed men in shock for a moment. The killer raised the Uzi toward the Batman, but with lightening quick reflexes the vigilante sidestepped the criminal and utilized a double hand strike to the larger man's hand and wrist, knocking the automatic weapon to the floor. "Get him out of here!" The Batman suddenly turned and roared at the teenager. The vigilante's distraction providing an opportunity that the Beast readily took advantage of by charging and backhanding the Batman across the face.

The caped crime fighter flew back and tumbled over a table. Dick shook his head and carried the child outside to his frantic family. "Here, gotta go." Dick ran back inside, as sirens grew louder. The fight that was going on before him was very impressive. The Batman had recovered and the two men were hammering away at one another, the Beast appearing to utilize primarily Sambo with some Muay Thai thrown in, while the Batman seemed to be adhering to the Keyse Fighting Method with Jiu Jitsu mingled with it. Though Batman had knocked the firearm out of the Beast's hand, the butcher knife was still in the other, and that was the deciding factor that was keeping Batman on the defensive. A swipe clipped off the tip of one of the pointed ears on Batman's cowl.

Dick was a highly trained fighter, but even he was stunned by the skill and destructive capability these men were demonstrating. But his admiration at their skill quickly took a back seat to his hatred for the larger of the two. Just as the teenager motioned to enter the fray, he noted one of the men that Batman had hammered as he fled the kitchen getting up. He saw the fight as well and pulled out a handgun. Dick charged him, but was too far to keep the man from firing several rounds at the brawlers. The body armor of the two men held against all bullets save one, which penetrated a weak point in Batman's armor and cut shallowly into his side. "Argh!" The Batman fell, as Dick was mid-way across the room making his way toward them. The Beast instinctively hurled the butcher knife at the Asian criminal, embedding the blade in his skull. Dick reached the man just as his corpse hit the ground.

The teenager then turned toward the Beast, who was ignoring him and retrieving his fallen Uzi. Gripping it in his left hand, the Russian turned back toward the Batman, who was struggling to get back to his feet. The hulking crime lord aimed the weapon at the Batman's head. "Dos Vidanya, Batman."

But a moment before he could pull the trigger the blade of butcher knife he had been wielding moments before cut through his wrist and severed his hand. "Arrrgggghhhhh!" The massive criminal whirled and noted the sixteen-year-old standing to his side with a bloody blade in his hand and a look of rage and hatred on his face. Before the Beast could react the child delivered a snap kick to his abdomen, but the combination of armor and layers of muscle rendered the strike all but useless. The Beast lashed out and backhanded the youth sending him to the ground. The Russian took a step toward the child, but heard the screech of tires and wail of sirens as police cars arrived in front of the building. "Govno!" He glared at Dick one last time. "You will die!" With that the criminal sprinted toward the kitchen and out the rear exit.

"Ughn." Batman finally got to his feet, but started to crumple back over. He plastered his hand on the back of a booth to keep himself upright, but it was clear he would not be making one of his trademark disappearing acts in his current condition.

"Come on!" Dick got up and ran to him, slipping an arm over his shoulder and heading out in the same direction that the Beast had gone. The made it into the kitchen just as the police barged through the front doors. As they emerged from the back door into an alley the sounds of officers running toward them in a latent attempt to surround the building could be heard. Batman had already gotten out a grappling gun and aimed it up at the roof of the next building. The gun fired, startling Dick, who had been watching the entrance to the alleyway and not what Batman was doing. "What the hell?"

The hook embedded itself into the masonry of the building and Batman removed his arm from the boy's shoulder. "Thanks. Tell the cops I ran out on my own and you were following me to make sure I didn't die." With that the Batman careened into the sky and reached the roof with a thud. He tried to pull his body over the edge and onto the roof, but his injury was severe enough to make the effort agonizingly difficult, and his grunts echoed through the alley.

"Jackass." Dick grumbled, and then leapt up at the second floor fire escape, barely catching the lowest rung of the ladder. Instead of using the ladder, Dick scrambled up the metal structure of the fire escape like a chimpanzee, all the way to the top and then leapt up and easily hoisted his body over the side. A moment later he was reaching down, gripping the Batman and lifting him onto the roof as the police swarmed into the alley. "Come on tough guy, we all need help sometime."

--

"Yeah, that's him." The frightened and enraged nine year old answered his cousin as they and the bearded man they knew as Tom Alfreds stood across the street from a small restaurant. There in the window, enjoying a late supper with several men who were clearly his sycophants was the man who had murdered John and Mary Grayson, Antonio Zucco.

Zucco stood up and started leaving, walking through the restaurant, out the door and stepping into a car parked out front. The car headed down the street, and Selina and Dick suddenly realized he was getting away from them. They then realized that Tom was gone as well. "That son of a bitch!" Selina growled as she sprinted back to where the Land Rover had been parked. Bruce was just starting the engine as Selina reached him and stepped in front of the vehicle. "No way you Limey bastard!" Bruce grumbled something under his breath as he heard someone trying to open the locked rear passenger side door. He twisted and saw Dick's young face glaring at him through the window. "Unlock the doors and let the kid in." Selina ordered. "Only then will I trust you enough to move." A few tense moments passed before the woman forced a grin. "Come on tough guy, we all need help sometime."

Realizing that Zucco was putting distance between them, Bruce complied. Dick sprang in and two seconds later Selina was inside as well. The Rover pulled ahead and within a minute they saw the taillights of Zucco's decade and a half year old Mercedes. "You two are out of your element here." Bruce tried to convince them through his British accent.

"You have no idea of what my element is." Selina bit back. "While you were learning how to properly eat caviar, I was fending off scumbag foster fathers and their scumbag friends."

"What? Selina, Mom didn't tell…"

"Mary didn't know." Selina defensively interrupted the kid.

"But I thought Ted…"

"Ted was great. He never touched me except when training me to take care of myself." Selina defended her adoptive father. "But I passed through a few homes before reaching his." She looked back and gave the boy a reassuring look. "It wasn't fun, but they didn't do anything I didn't heal from. Bumps and bruises Dick, that's all sweetie."

Tears started to reform in the child's already swollen eyes. "You should have told us. You always said you were fine. Mom and Dad wanted to take you in. Why didn't you tell us?"

A sad smile crossed the woman's face. "I know that Dickie, but I liked life on the streets, not on the road. I'd have gone crazy in the circus."

"But…" The boy gave up and let it drop.

"I owe you an apology." Bruce commented quietly as he watched the taillights in the distance turning into the front of a driveway, stopping at a gate, waiting as the gate opened and continuing down the long driveway leading to a large house. "It seems we both are guilty of making incorrect assumptions regarding each others pasts. And perhaps your experiences are such that you can handle what's in store for us, but I think it's safe to say that Richard can not."

Selina turned her head and looked toward the man driving the car. He had kept the headlights off, and therefore the slight illumination that would typically be offered within a car driving at night was not there. She could barely make out his features in the pale moonlight and smiled. They had been at odds all evening, but he cared about justice and he cared about Dick. She started to realize that he might be a good guy after all. "Don't apologize. This is a unique situation, something that none of us could be prepared for."

She noticed that Tom appeared to shudder at her words. "It's not unique. I've been training to try and make it unique, but I…I failed. I'm so sorry." The words were barely audible, and Selina could have sworn that the low whisper lacked Tom's British accent.

"What do you mean?" Selina pressed gently.

Bruce ignored her question as he performed a u-turn and slowly pulled off into a grove of trees about a half-mile from the estate. "We're on foot from here on in." Bruce turned and peered intently at the boy in the back seat. "Dick, you stay in here. I will not listen to any arguments, otherwise I will drive us all back to the circus. As badly as we all thirst for justice, I will not endanger a child. Do you understand?"

"You want me to just sit here?" Dick angrily asked.

"Yes. If all goes well Selina and I will be returning with Zucco. You will have an opportunity to confront him if you wish. But I will not allow you to walk in there with armed guards just itching to kill somebody." Bruce replied.

"You'll bring him back here?" Dick questioned, hope and skepticism both flashing through his eyes.

"We'll try." Bruce replied.

Dick's gaze lowered to his lap. "OK, just be careful."

Bruce nodded and both he and Selina darted out of the car. Bruce headed toward the rear of the vehicle, opened the back and pulled out a burlap sack. Inside were a rope and hook, a small mirror mounted on a telescoping rod, and a Maglight. Bruce inspected the contents, flung the sack over his shoulder and the two jogged quietly toward the estate. There was a wall that surrounded the property, but the two would-be intruders would have no difficulty making their way over it without the rope. Before getting over it, Bruce and Selina studied the guards for nearly twenty minutes to get an idea of their routine.

They finally cleared the fence and sprinted across the lawn, flattening against the outside of the house upon reaching it. "We probably should have sorted this out before, but while we're in there call me…Falcone. What should I call you?" Bruce whispered, slightly amused he had to come up with a fake name to protect a fake name.

"Falcone?" Selina raised and eyebrow but went along. "Call me Cat." Bruce nodded and reached into the sack to retrieve the rope and hook. "Don't bother." Selina put a hand over his to keep him from pulling anything out. She then ran along the side of the house until she found the security box mounted on the wall. "Piece of cake. This thing's nearly as old as I am." She opened the box and nimbly worked away at the wires. "All clear." She smiled at the British-acting American.

Bruce decided to trust her and tested a window. Between Zucco's faith in his guards, automated security system and well-earned reputation for brutality, the gangster felt no need to lock his house up. The window creaked open without sounding off any alarm, and in a matter of seconds the two were in the house.

The pair quietly made their way around the main level, determining that he wasn't there before heading up the stairs. As they neared the top of the stairs they heard a voice, one speaking English with a thick Italian accent. "I know what time it is, he told me to call when it was done. It is done, so get him." Bruce and Selina crept down the dark hallway, the only illumination coming from the crack in the door they were approaching. Crouching outside the door, Bruce peered inside and determined that it was Zucco's study.

"Da, what do you want?" A thick voice with a Russian accent came on.

"The stars of the show met with an accident in the afternoon performance." Zucco smiled as he leaned back in his chair. "The owner Haley called me a little while ago and wished to have a meeting tomorrow. He sounded most conciliatory."

It was then that Bruce noticed what was beyond Zucco. In the open window behind the desk was Dick crouching on the sill, listening silently to the phone call, the torrent of emotions within him under control for the moment as he took in every sound. Zucco was oblivious to the child, who Bruce assumed had followed them to the house and simply climbed up the lattice to the window of the study. Bruce gestured to Selina to look at the window, and she gasped as she caught sight of her nine-year-old cousin. "Damn him." She whispered almost inaudibly.

"Good. Your former Mafia colleagues should realize I mean business." The deep Russian voice commented. "It should give them enough pause to at least look into who they will be dealing with, and that should provide them with enough information to keep them out of our way. At least those that value their lives."

Zucco shrugged, grinned and started to reply but was interrupted as one of his perimeter guards started yelling outside his window. "They saw him." Bruce muttered as he charged into the room, hurtled the desk, swatting the startled Zucco as he did so, grabbed Dick and pulled him into the room just in case one of the guards decided to chance a shot. Sure enough, a bullet tore through the air where Dick had been a moment before.

"Madre!" Zucco cried out as he hit the floor.

"Guess again asshole!" Selina snarled as she sent a kick across the man's cheek.

"I knew it was going too well." Bruce muttered as he quickly examined Dick to make sure the boy was unharmed, and then ran to the door to barricade themselves in the room. Once the door was closed and locked, Bruce used a level of strength that surprised Selina, and pulled a completely filled oak bookcase down over the door. "That'll buy us a couple of minutes at most."

"Bastard!" Dick screamed before lunging at Zucco and battering away with his tiny fists. Despite being only a child, Dick quickly had Zucco's nose broken and bottom lip bleeding. The gangster pushed Dick back and to the ground, only to have Selina begin pounding on him.

"Enough!" Bruce yelled as he pulled the woman off Zucco. "We may need him recognizable to serve as a hostage." Selina fought him, but Bruce quickly had her arms pinned to her sides. "Priority one is to find a safe way out for the boy!" Selina instantly stopped struggling, took a few breaths, and nodded. "Good. Now, do you have any ideas?"

"Nothing comes to mind." She growled as she glared at the murderer cowering on the floor.

Bruce let her go and cautiously made his way to the window, chancing a look outside. "One guard remaining there. I assume the rest are…" The banging at the door confirmed Bruce's guess. "Well then."

Selina glanced at Dick. "How was it getting up here?"

Dick peeled his eyes off of Zucco and met Selina's gaze. "Cake."

Selina nodded, looked down at the desk, grabbed a letter opener, and then reached down and grabbed Zucco by the back of his collar, hoisting him back to his feet. She then dragged him in front of Dick and forced him to his knees. "You know this kid?"

"Si. He'll be joining his parents very soon." Zucco sneered arrogantly. His comment was rewarded with a backhand from the woman standing above him.

Selina then offered Dick the letter opener. He took it a little hesitantly. "You're too young, but it is your right, and I doubt this opportunity will wait around for you to grow up."

"No!" Bruce demanded as he braced the door that was now being pounded against from the hallway with his shoulder. "Dick, we will make this man see justice, but murdering him is not the way to do that!"

"Let me guess, this is where you say that if he does this he's as bad as Zucco, right?" Selina snarled as she shot him an angry glance.

"Of course not!" Bruce grunted as the half dozen guards were starting to get the door slightly open with each shove. "Killing a murderer is nowhere near as bad as killing innocents, but we still do not have the right to do that!"

"Well at least you aren't some new age hippy pacifist, but you're still wrong." Selina snapped. "This is Dick's right."

"Dick, don't do it! It won't be what your parents would want you to do!" Bruce got out as he struggled at the door.

"Piss off!" Selina screamed. "John Grayson would have gutted this pig! If you knew him you would know that!"

"But would John want this for Dick?" Bruce replied as he slowly lost ground at the doorway. "Would Mary want Dick to have blood on his hands? Nine year old hands at that!"

Selina didn't bother to answer him and turned back to her young second cousin. "It's your right, Dick. It's up to you, but if you're going to do it, you need to do it now."

The child hesitated, the letter opener trembling in his hand, his eyes glazed over with fear and hate. "I…" He was on the verge of tears. "I…I can't." He looked up at Selina. "I'm sorry."

Selina looked lovingly into the child's eyes. "You have nothing to be sorry for, my sweet little robin." She gingerly took the letter opener out of his hand and offered him a wan smile. "Nothing at all." She then tightened her grip on Zucco's collar and pulled him to the open window, keeping him in front of her to act as a shield. "Tell your stooge to throw his weapon no less than twenty feet away! Now!"

"Pathetic woman, soon you will watch the precious child die, and then serve as a plaything to my guards before they kill you too." Zucco growled. "Of course, I plan to have my fun with you before tossing them your scraps." His growl was soon followed by a gasp as Selina plunged the letter opener into his side. "Ahhhh…"

"Tell him or my next stab will ensure you never have any fun again!" She growled as she pulled the blade out of him. "The gun at least twenty feet away! No, wait. Tell him to toss it against the wall and back up twenty feet. Do it!" Zucco finally complied, calling out to instruct the man in Italian between pained gasps. The guard hesitantly did as he was told, throwing the automatic weapon against the wall and backing up. The moment Selina deemed the guard far enough away she pulled Zucco back, forcibly bent him down a little and flung him forward until he was hurtling out the second floor window.

"No!" Both Bruce and Dick cried out in unison, and then watched in horror as Selina drew the letter opener back into a throwing position and flung it down at the guard. Her throw didn't connect with its intended target, but the guard did hesitate a couple of seconds before running toward his boss and his gun. By then Selina had already dived out the window and was running her hand along the lattice below, slowing her descent. She hit the ground forcibly, but on her feet and she had the gun in her hands before the guard was even half way to her.

Dick ran to the window and watched as Selina pumped three rounds into the guard, and then as she walked over to Zucco, who was laid out on the lawn, lined the weapon up with his head, and looked up to lock eyes with her cousin. "Selina, don't. Please." Dick pleaded.

"It needs to be done Dick. You'll understand when you're older." Selina tried to explain, then looked back down and pumped a round into the back of Zucco's head. She then looked back up and called out. "Come on!" She aimed the weapon at the first level doorway and downed two guards the moment they left the house.

"Go!" Bruce yelled out at Dick as hands started reaching around the door he and the bookcase had been holding shut until now. He watched the boy snap out of the shock of watching his parents' murdered be murdered in turn and start to climb out the window.

"Young acrobat." The Russian voice called out from the speakerphone. "Know that if you survive this, I will have you killed just as I had your parents killed. There will be nowhere safe for you."

"Go!" Bruce yelled. Dick glanced from the phone on the desk to the man he knew as Tom Alfreds, and then slipped out the window. Bruce waited a few more seconds and then grabbed one of the hands reaching around the door, twisting it and breaking the forearm. He then pulled the door open suddenly, sliding the downed bookcase across the floor and causing all six guards, who had been pressing against the door, to tumble into the room. The one with the broken arm remained on the ground while the others tried to recover. Bruce threw himself into them, disarming and disabling them as best he could.

A broken jaw took one man out. Stomping down on the knee, forcing it to bend sixty degrees in the wrong direction took the fight out of another. An elbow breaking the nose took out a third. Broken ribs from a snap kick forced the fourth to quit, and a good old-fashioned knock out caused by having his face slammed against the wall stopped the last. Bruce hesitantly made his way out of the house, and returned to find the Land Rover gone.

--

Dick jogged across the street to the hospital, pausing momentarily as he read the name stenciled across the automatic glass door in front of him. 'Thomas Wayne Memorial Hospital'. One of the greatest philanthropists in history, and he and Selina would be robbing his son in the next twenty-four hours. Oh well, Dick could take solace in knowing that Bruce Wayne wasn't fit to carry his father's jock, at least if half of the gossip rag headlines were true. He trotted inside, and fortunately the emergency room did not appear that busy. Dick spotted a woman in a white lab coat looking over a chart. She was in her late fifties, and looked like she was a doctor. "Excuse me, Doctor?" Dick stretched out the last word, hoping she would confirm that she was in fact a doctor.

"Doctor Thompkins. How can I help you son?" The woman asked seriously.

"Uh, there's a guy in the alley, he's got a gunshot wound in the side. I think he just needs you to stop the bleeding and stabilize him until his…backup or whatever comes to get him." Dick replied, realizing she would likely not help him.

A look of shock came over the doctor's eyes. "Gurney!" She called out to orderlies that were not in the vicinity.

"No." Dick held up his hands. "Look, we can't make a production of this. If you could just go out there and check him out…"

"Are you out of your mind?" The doctor glared at the teenager. "Gunshot wounds need to be reported to the police, it's a legal obligation. And I'm certainly not walking into an alley in the dead of night alone with a stranger!"

Dick gritted his teeth. "Damn." He pulled out an odd looking black cell phone and pressed a button. "They're not going for it. Gunshots need to be reported, she doesn't want to walk into an alley, you know, common sense stuff." Dick listened intently for a moment. "Yeah, I know that. Yeah, I know. Look, I'm not the one bleeding to death here." The boy was getting more and more exasperated as he listened to the person on the other end. "Well, you need help pal, and it's the type of help that's a bit beyond my abilities." The doctor noted the boy quirk his head as he obviously heard something that surprised him. The child peered at her. "Hold on." He told the person on the phone before addressing the doctor. "Your first name isn't Leslie, is it?"

The woman was shocked, but nodded slowly. "Whom are you talking to?"

"Yeah, I think she's the doc that I'm talking to now." Dick replied into the phone. "You sure? Yeah, but are you sure? OK." He offered the doctor the phone-like device.

She hesitantly accepted it and raised it to her ear. "Hello?"

Dick backed away to offer her a little space and turned to look at the wall of the waiting room. A portrait of the man the hospital was named after hung in the most prominent space on the wall. The youth then looked at some of the other pictures, including Thomas Wayne with other doctors. Dick wandered closer to the wall and studied one in particular. It showed Wayne with his arm around the shoulders of a pretty blond woman, presumably his wife, and a hand on the shoulder of a dark haired boy, presumably a young Prince Bruce. Standing with them was a woman in her mid thirties, her hand on the boy's other shoulder. Dick peered closely at the woman, and it suddenly dawned on him that it was Dr. Thompkins. "Holey friends in high places, Doc."

"Come on kid, show me where your patient is." Dr. Thompkins' voice startled the teenager. Dick nodded and led her out the door, across the street and got to the mouth of the alley.

"Send the kid away." The gravelly voice weakly but loudly called out.

Dick looked startled and hurt, and then threw up his hands in exasperation. "Fine, to hell with this." He turned to walk away but yelled out one last time into the alley. "You're welcome!"

Dr. Thompkins watched the boy leave but then hurried into the alleyway. "Bruce?"

"Over here." Wayne called out. "I'm in my underwear."

"That raises some questions, but at least you shouldn't be embarrassed by me seeing you undressed." Leslie answered him as she made her way to him with her bag of medical tools. "I've seen you naked plenty of times."

"Yeah, twenty-five years ago." Bruce muttered before coughing and the doctor knelt down beside him and examined the bullet hole in his side.

"Well, for someone who's been shot, I guess you can count yourself lucky." Leslie muttered as she used a penlight to get a good look at her patient's wound. "Shallow flesh wound, the bullet appears to have passed through without hitting anything important. And that kid even did a very good job keeping the blood loss under control. At this point all we really need to do is to sterilize the wound and maintain pressure." She then turned the light up to his face and peered into his eyes. "What the hell were you doing tonight? And what happened to your clothes?"

Bruce weakly raised his hand to block the light from his eyes. "Probably not the answer you want to hear, but I really don't remember."

"Bullshit."

"Really." Bruce countered. "I went out clubbing, tried what I thought was ecstasy, met some girls, and I kind of remember going to a house party with them. From there it kind of blacks out until that kid found me in the street." Bruce winced a little at the pain in his side. "I should buy him a car or something."

Leslie was still very skeptical, and casually started scanning the rest of his body for further injuries. "Oh my God, Bruce, what have you done to yourself?" She almost shouted in shock.

"I told you, I don't know." Bruce replied in a hushed tone, hoping she'd follow his example and quiet down.

"No, I mean all the scarring covering your body!" She snapped. "These didn't happen tonight!"

"Oh, uh, well let's just say I've led a very interesting life." Bruce smirked and tried to joke it off. "More than one shrink has referred to me as self destructive."

Leslie took in the vast evidence of prior injuries and was almost reduced to tears. "Oh my sweet child, what have you been doing to yourself?"

"It's OK Leslie, just the results of a wild youth."

"Jesus, is this another bullet wound? It barely looks a week old!" Leslie stared at where Harvey Dent's shot had cut into his chest. Fortunately Batman's armor had slowed it down enough so that it barely broke the skin.

"Oh, that? That's nothing." Bruce muttered as he started getting light headed. "Hunting accident with Cheney." His laugh quickly devolved into a fit of coughing. Suddenly an ambulance screeched to a halt at the mouth of the alley. "There's my ride."

Alfred jumped out of the driver's seat and trotted into the alley. "Sir?"

"Alfred?" Leslie half asked, half accused, as she stood upright and faced the butler.

"Dr. Thompkins?" Alfred froze as he saw Leslie, but tried his best to recover. "Well, it's such a pleasure to see you again. I had hoped that Bruce would have invited you over to the penthouse at least a few times, but young men can be so thoughtless at times."

"Cut the crap Alfred." Leslie demanded. "What's going on here?"

Alfred looked down at Bruce and noted his state of undress. More importantly, he noted that the Batsuit and equipment were nowhere in sight. "Master Wayne called me to pick him up. I wish I could assure you that these wild nights of debauchery were unusual, but this isn't the first time I've picked the young master up naked in an alley."

"He's been shot." Leslie growled. "And tonight isn't the first time!"

"Then you should realize that Alfred has a fair bit of experience patching me back together." Bruce stated as he struggled to his feet. Alfred ran to his side and slid his arm under Bruce's shoulder to help carry him.

"You know I have to report this, don't you?" Leslie commented.

"No you don't." Bruce muttered. "I'm in good hands, I'm alive, and there's no way the police would be able to figure out who did this to me. Besides, I never took a step into the hospital, so outside the three of us, and that kid, nobody knows what's going on."

"Kid?" A surprised Alfred asked.

"A good Samaritan that Bruce refused to give his name to, and apparently didn't bother to get a name from. And I'm sorry Bruce, it doesn't work that way." She stated as they all walked to the back of the ambulance that Alfred had arrived in. Alfred reached out with his free hand and opened the rear doors. "I've got to alert the authorities to this. Sorry kid."

Alfred sat Bruce down on the floor of the ambulance and turned to speak to Leslie. "Dr. Thompkins, it would behoove us all if you were to pretend that these events did not transpire."

"I can't simply ignore a gunshot wound, Alfred!" She all but growled. "Not for Bruce, and not for you."

"What about for Thomas?" Alfred played his trump card. "Thomas's legacy has already been tarnished far too much in the press as it is. This bit would damage the Wayne name, perhaps irreparably. I know this young man. You know this young man. Despite having veered from the path, he is still his father's son. He still has the potential for greatness; he just needs to find his way. Bringing the authorities into this would only add another obstacle to that."

"Or maybe shock him into getting his act together." Leslie stated. She paused as she considered her options, and then turned to Bruce. "This sort of behavior would kill your parents were they not already dead. I'll turn a blind eye this time, but straighten up, or so help me God I'll call Jim Gordon himself about your shenanigans! Do you understand me young man?"

Bruce nodded. "Thanks Leslie."

"Get him home." She said to Alfred before turning back to Bruce. "Nothing but bed rest for you until I give you the OK, got that?"

"Yes Doctor." Bruce smiled as his head bobbled around woozily.

"Up you go Master Bruce." Alfred instructed as he got into the back of the ambulance and hoisted Bruce up onto a gurney. "I've got a nice blood transfusion waiting for you."

--

"You meet a girl or something?" Selina asked as she heard Dick open the door and walk into the suite. She had set up her computer and was checking the status of a special bank account that someone had set up for them six and a half years before. She cut her Internet connection and closed the notebook computer before turning at Dick's voice.

"Actually, yeah. She was like twelve and caught up in a firefight with her mom and two brothers." Dick flashed a grin.

"What?" Selina jumped up and ran to him, suddenly noticing the missing shirt he had when he left, the bruise on his cheek and blood soaked undershirt he was wearing. "Dick, are you alright?" Panic was in her voice.

"I'm fine, which is more than I can say for the other guys." Dick grinned, though he was clearly exhausted.

"What happened?"

"Stumbled upon a gunfight in a restaurant. Big guy killing Chinese gangsters, with lots of civilians caught up in it. Batman showed up, started brawling with the big guy, got shot in the side by a Chinese gangster, was about to get shot by the big guy, but a devastatingly handsome and heroic young man jumped in with a butcher knife and cleaved the big son of a bitch's grubby fist off." Dick related in dramatic fashion.

"Shut up!" Selina stared wide-eyed at him.

"Oh, you haven't heard the best part. I also helped Batman get away. Dragged his heavy ass over rooftops and through alleys for several blocks to Wayne Memorial Hospital, got a doctor to go out and check him out, some chick named Leslie Thompkins who apparently knows him, and the ungrateful prick told me to take a hike as I led her to him." Dick continued his tale.

"You saved Batman's life?" Selina asked disbelief in her voice though she knew the boy would never lie to her.

"Yeah, but you still haven't heard the best part." Dick grinned.

"There's more?" Selina cocked an eyebrow. Dick nodded, his grin widening. "Bullshit."

"No, there is one other gem in this little Iliad of mine." Dick raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly with his lips pursed. "That now one-handed big guy; it's the Beast."

"Bullshit!" This time Selina truly could not allow herself to buy the story, even though she knew to her very core that this was one subject that Dick would never lie about.

"Trust me, it was him. The voice was unmistakable." Dick assured her as he started toward his bedroom. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm bushed."

--

"Please, you must remain still." The doctor pleaded with his agitated patient. The Beast slightly relaxed and rested his arm back onto the table so that the doctor could minister to his handless wrist. The doctor, who looked the part of a man dragged out of his bed in the middle of night, scrutinized the wound. "I suppose that what you're asking for is possible, though such a device would be expensive and take time for you to learn how to control."

"I am fast learner." The large Russian replied, his mask off to reveal his hardened face and blond hair. He then turned to his associates, all of who were dragged out of bed as well. "I am beginning to think that Gotham may not be worth the trouble. I think an example will need to be made."

"Wait, you're not talking about that sour grapes of wrath contingency plan of yours, are you?" Sascha asked. "Cause I've gotta tell ya', that'll bring all sorts of attention we don't need."

"Da, this is what I talk of. The authorities you fear will not connect this to us, and the Bat will be dead." The Beast replied.

"Trust me, we'll be run outta town if we pull this." Sascha continued trying to change his boss's mind.

"If we must leave, then we will leave." The Beast answered, his patience wearing thin. "America is a large nation, there are many other cities for us to settle. Now stop concerning yourself with my retaliation against Gotham and start helping me find a way to retaliate against the Bat and that boy who took my hand."

Sascha shrugged. "As of now, the boy doesn't exist. The news would love to interview him, he apparently saved a couple of kids, so hopefully he'll come forward and identify himself. As for the Batman, well, I've got one possible lead. About a week and a half ago there was this Reese guy who claimed to know who Batman was. He went into hiding, but I'm sure we could root around for him and dig him up."

"Da, dig!" The Beast exclaimed as the doctor walked across the room and rolled back a tray with various pieces of weaponry on it.

--

Selina slowed the motorcycle to a stop along the street in front of the downtown hospital. She marched forward toward the emergency room, intent on speaking with Dr. Thompkins. Despite what television would have you believe, doctors willing to administer to outlaws were next to impossible to find. So at hearing about an ER physician willing to aid a vigilante in an alley without calling it in, well, Selina was intent on getting on her list of patients. She and Dick had been very fortunate so far, but it was only a matter of time before one or both of them would sustain injuries that ice packs, bandages, water, alcohol or needles and thread wouldn't be able to fix. "Excuse me…" Selina called out to a passing nurse. "Could you tell me where I can find Dr. Leslie Thompkins?"

The nurse stopped and smiled at Selina. "I'm sorry, Dr. Thompkins' shift ended about half an hour ago. Is there something someone else can help you with?"

Selina returned the smile and shook her head. "No thank you, I'll just have to catch her another time." The nurse nodded and continued on her way, and Selina slowly walked out the front over the ambulance turnaround, and on to the sidewalk. It was only then that she seriously pondered how she would present her case to Leslie. It's not like she had anything more than the word of some unknown orphan kid to hold against her. How did the Batman recruit her? Did he pay her? Probably, he's got to have access to tons of cash to have all the gadgets he has, and those vehicles he has…or had anyway.

Or maybe he threatened her. The Batman was reportedly a bruiser; recent word was that he was a killer as well. But those that he'd beaten up or reportedly killed looked like they got what they deserved. Him threatening a doctor with force seemed unlikely. Maybe he had some information he was blackmailing her with. Possible. There had to be something that would compel her to breach the law and her ethics and treat a wanted vigilante in an alley.

Selina looked up across the street and noticed an alley, likely the one where Dick had left the Batman to be worked on by the good doctor. A smile spread over Selina's face. Perhaps she left behind some evidence of her unreported medical treatment? The woman sprinted across the street and ducked into the alley as the sun was just starting to make its appearance. Pulling out her penlight, she scanned the dark area. Garbage, old puddles of rainwater, not much. Not until she noted the blood toward the back of the alley. She scanned furiously, but aside from the blood there seemed to be no evidence of what had happened earlier that night. About to give up, she waved her light over the area one last time and noticed a small trickle of blood had ran from underneath a dumpster toward the lowered center of the alley. Something bloody was under that dumpster, and Selina was praying it wasn't a dead animal that she getting on her knees to look at.

The woman shined the penlight underneath the large refuse receptacle, and pondered what she was looking at for a moment. She tentatively reached forward and gripped a large hard, plastic-feeling object. Finding a piece of the object jutting out that was small enough for her to grab, she got a grip and pulled it out. She was stunned as she found herself looking into the empty eyeholes of Batman's cowl. She dropped back down and looked back beneath the dumpster, and sure enough, the rest of his armor, cape and weaponry was under there. But why? He'd certainly have needed to expose the wound to the doctor, but his entire uniform looked to be under there. And why wouldn't they have collected it afterward? Then it dawned on her. Dr. Thompkins didn't know the Batman, she knew the man under the mask. A broad grin once again adorned her face, but it disappeared as a dark van came to a quick halt at the mouth of the alley.

Selina leapt into the shadows and noticed the fire escape ladder that Dick had likely used to bring Batman down from the rooftops. With the helmet-like cowl under her arm, she scrambled up the ladder and continued hiding as a tall, older man with a beard entered the alley. He wore a trench coat and fedora, and pulled a flashlight out of his coat's pocket. He wove the light over the pavement before him until he reached the dumpster. Groaning and muttering something inaudible, he lowered to one knee and peered underneath, pulling out the costume piece by piece. Several seconds later he seemed to be taking inventory and immediately noticed the missing cowl. He scoured the alley, but found nothing. After several minutes of fruitless searching he finally gave up. "Oh dear." Was all Selina heard the apparently English man say.

--

Dawn was breaking over the city as the black van pulled in front of Hill Field, Gotham's major league baseball stadium. Sascha and several other members of the Beast's gang jumped out and walked to a side gate, where they were let in by a sniveling looking man who they had bought off. Four of the gangsters carried two large crates out of the back of the van and hauled them through the open gate. Once they were inside, Sascha returned to the van, got back in, and the van sped away.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm telling you Alfred, the cowl was with the rest of the costume when we left that alley." Bruce insisted as he and his butler walked away from the borrowed Lexus and up the front steps of the newly re-constructed Wayne Manor. Though his side hurt tremendously, there was no outward sign of the wound Bruce had sustained just under eighteen hours before.

"Well sir, I can assure you that it was not there as of five this morning." Alfred replied as he reached for the door and opened it for the younger man.

"I'm still not sure why you didn't wake me when you got back to the penthouse." Bruce grumbled as he walked into the tarp-covered foyer. "This deserved to be made a priority."

"As does your recovery." Alfred clipped back. "I'm still aghast that you're up out of bed so soon after being shot."

"It was barely a flesh wound." Bruce retorted.

"That's what you say about all of them." Alfred snapped back. "And now you've gone and gotten Leslie involved. However shall we get her to let this matter drop? One tends to insist on getting involved when they've taken a bullet out of their godchild."

"I'll figure out how to deal with Leslie once I've gotten to the bottom of my missing cowl." Bruce growled.

"You suspect the boy?"

"Right now he's the leading candidate." Bruce answered as he saw the foreman of the work crew walking down the hallway toward them. "Time to get into character."

"Of course sir." Alfred replied as he smiled at the approaching man in dirty overalls. "Charles. Good day to you sir."

"Hello Mr. Wayne. Mr. Pennyworth." Charles responded. "We weren't expecting you. The boys are packing it in for the night, but I can have them stick around if you want."

"That won't be necessary Chuck." Bruce smiled charmingly, his teeth grinding at the discomfort of the bullet hole in his side. "I just bought some sculptures at an auction and I figured I'd try and figure out the best place to put them."

"Well, that's a bit outside my area of expertise." The dust-covered man replied as they all shook hands.

"Mine too, but I get a kick out of making my guesses, and then hiring interior decorators and museum curators to come in and offer their suggestions." Bruce shrugged as his beaming smile shifted into a playful grin. "It's painful how divergent our opinions are. Needless to say, I tend to go with the experts."

"Well, in that vein, I know you've said you wanted us to keep out of the study, but I have some very interesting suggestions for that room." Charles commented.

Bruce pursed his lips and shook his head slowly. "Sorry Charlie, but that was Dad's favorite room. I had it rebuilt and redecorated just the way it was when he used to work in there, and I'd like to keep the changes to that room minimal."

"Of course Mr. Wayne, please forget I mentioned anything." Charles apologetically requested.

"No need to worry, Charles." Bruce scanned the hallway they were in and nodded, pretending to pretend like he was making an impossibly informed appraisal of their work. "Excellent job on the house by the way. I dare say even Alfred wouldn't be able to tell the difference once you're done with it."

"It would be a difficult task indeed." Alfred played along with humoring the dullard Bruce pretended to be.

"Glad you like it Mr. Wayne." Charles smiled. "Are you sure you don't need us to hang around? It'd be no trouble at all."

"No, no, you guys take off, have some fun." Bruce waved off the suggestion. "In fact, why don't you take the guys to Chez Petit, I'll have Alfred call ahead and have them put your meals and drinks on my tab. And if any of you guys have a bit too much to drink, the maitre d has the number to the Wayne Enterprises car service. Just let him know you'll need a ride, he'll take care of you, and the driver will leave you a number to call for a ride back to the restaurant in the morning to get your car."

"Wow Mr. Wayne thanks!" Charles enthusiastically answered.

"No problem Chuck. Just a way to let you guys know I appreciate your hard work in getting this place livable sooner than anyone guessed it'd be." Bruce replied. The man shook their hands again and hurried off to tell his crew. Bruce and Alfred headed down the hallway and made their way to the study, shutting the door to it behind them upon entering. "Now to check on the other work crew." Bruce muttered as he pulled out a medium sized box from a secret compartment behind one of the bookcases. He placed it on the desk and opened it to reveal make-up, wigs, facial hair, glasses clothes and various other implements that made up the disguise kit. He turned to Alfred and tossed him a pair of glasses and a thick mustache. "Here you are Herr Einwalter." Bruce smiled through the German accented words.

"Danke Dietre." Alfred replied as he answered in a similar German accent.

-

The eighteen Russian workers milled about the extremely well lit cave beneath Wayne Manor. It was barely recognizable, much of the ground was now level and tiled, a wedge-shaped apparatus hung from the ceiling near the mouth of the cave to extend down and forward to block the waterfall when activated. A bank of Cray supercomputers lined one wall, a medical bay was almost completed in the corner, a forensics lab was in the room next to it, and various other rooms had been built into the large cavern, as well as eighteen small temporary quarters for the men.

None of the workers understood the purpose of the wedge or many of the other devices and structures they had been working on, but the instructions had been clear and their payment had been well beyond substantial; more than enough to make being taken to an unknown location by an unknown man endurable. And if Gustav, their foreman, trusted Wolfgang Einwalter, then they knew that they could trust the tall German. They'd even come to like hanging out with Einwalter's assistant, Dietre Grumann, who spoke rudimentary Russian and seemed to grasp even the most intricate aspects of what they were doing down there. Though it was likely he was the go between man for Einwalter and whoever fabricated the blueprints and other design specifications that the Russian crew was adhering to now, so it would make sense that he would have some idea despite his apparently sub-average intellect.

"Greetings comrades!" The workers turned to see Dietre and Herr Einwalter descending from the stairway that they always entered and exited through. None of the workers knew what was beyond the thick metal door at the top, and given the exorbitant amount the Germans were paying them, they kept their curiosity in check. There had originally been nineteen workers, but curiosity got the better of one of them about a month ago, and he had decided to trek through the waterfall to see what was outside the cave. He had come back claiming there was nothing more than a forest and gravel road, he was unable to see what rested upon the cliff above them. Within minutes of his adventure, Einwalter and Grumann entered the cave, fully aware of the worker's transgression. He was escorted back to the cargo bay area in an adjoining cavern that they had tiles shortly after first arriving.

For several days they had feared the worst, but during their evening conversations with their families back home they learned that their former companion had returned safely, loaded into the same non-descript plane on a remote airfield in an equally non-descript area with blackened windows. The pro-rated portion of his payment was paid to him despite his breaking of the rules, but none of the bonuses that were offered upon completion were given to him. Given his breaking of the emphatically set rules, his treatment was considered most fair by the other workers. If anything, it made them work more diligently knowing that the bonuses offered for superior and expedited work would likely be honored. They would return home able to retire in luxury. Their children could go their lives without working, provided they didn't live too opulently.

"Greetings Dietre! Mr. Einwalter, it is a pleasure to see you again sir." Gustav Khrushchev welcomed the two Germans into what was quickly becoming a state of the art facility, while still leaving enough of the cavern exposed to retain a mysterious, even frightful setting. Gustav had been a high ranking official in the Soviet military prior to its dismantling in the early nineties, and had used the many contacts that he had acquired over the decades to help his endeavors in the private sector. He had become known as a man who could get interested parties in touch with the most skilled groups and individuals in virtually any field that Mother Russia had to offer. It was he that Einwalter and Grumann had contacted to put this project together, though this was the first time that Khrushchev had permitted himself to be left ignorant of so many factors involved in a job he got involved with. But the money being offered was too substantial not to accept. The Germans had paid in Euros, though Gustav was certain that they had flown for too long for them to be anywhere in Europe or Asia. Regardless, the pay was exceptional, the amenities were more than adequate, and the men were permitted daily contact with their loved ones via a videophone system here in the cave.

"Hello Gustav." A slouching and heavily disguised Bruce Wayne replied in a thick German accent. The Dietre Grumann character did not know Russian, and none of these Russians spoke German, so English was the chosen form of communication between Dietre and the Russians, with Dietre then translating everything into German for Einwalter, who apparently spoke no second language. Dietre's pockmarked and bearded face smiled at the foreman of the group. "May we have a word with you?"

"Of course." Gustav replied as he made his way toward them. "Oh, before I forget, we heard a truck entering the detached cargo bay about ten minutes ago."

"Ya, we were expecting a shipment today." Dietre replied as Gustav shook hands with both of them. "We would like to employ your services on another matter."

"What other matter?" Gustav questioned.

"Information. Sensitive Soviet era information." Bruce clarified.

"The level of sensitivity will set the price."

"We were hoping that one hundred seventy five thousand Euros would desensitize things." Bruce smiled.

"It must be very sensitive indeed for you to offer so much." Gustav cocked an eyebrow. "Ask. I doubt that there is any information I possess that this amount would not be sufficient for."

Bruce turned to the heavily disguised Alfred and nodded. Alfred peered intently at the Russian. "Tell Dietre what you know of the man called Beast."

The Russian's eyes widened a bit and turned to Dietre for clarification. "He has been referred to as KGBeast by certain British and American intelligence gathering agencies. Apparently he was some sort of Soviet superspy."

"Yes, I know of him." Gustav answered. "The child of a soldier and one of our Olympic swimmers. He was orphaned as an infant, a tragic car accident that took the lives of his parents when he was six months old. He was taken in by the state and thoroughly trained to be the greatest spy, assassin, and warrior the world had ever known. And he very well is all that and more, but he resorted to becoming a criminal."

"Tell us everything about the man." Bruce pressed. "His name, aspects of his training, what he's done, who he's killed, his activities post Cold War, his friends, his enemies. Everything."

"Anatoli Knyazev is his name. And I will tell you all I know, but I am curious. Why are you interested in the Beast?"

"We can divulge no details." Bruce shrugged. "Just that we may have overlapping interests in the future, and we wish to know what we might be up against."

Gustav nodded, and was about to reply when the Einwalter-disguised Alfred interrupted them. "Dietre, betrachten sie das fernsehen!"

Bruce turned to the second largest computer screen across the cave that had Russian television playing on it. Being shown was Mayor Garcia holding a press conference, the Russian translation scrolling underneath. "Good evening ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. I called you here today to make you all aware of some recent findings regarding the deaths of two Gotham police officers, several reputed gangsters and their associates that occurred almost two weeks ago. Until now the belief was that it was the Batman that was responsible for these killings, but further evaluation of the evidence now leads us to believe that he was not involved."

The press went crazy, and the mayor pointed to one reporter that he was apparently familiar with. "Your honor, are we to understand that it is now the position of the Gotham Police Department that the Batman is no longer public enemy number one?"

The mayor turned to his side to show Commissioner Gordon standing behind him. Jim walked forward, took the podium offered him by the Mayor, and answered the question. "Batman is still an outlaw vigilante, and as such wanted for crimes related to that. But with him no longer being a multiple murder suspect, including the murders of two police officers, well, he's off the front burner."

"Commissioner Gordon…" A female reporter shouted over the others. "Do you have a new suspect for these killings?"

Bruce bit his lip and shook his head slightly but emphatically as he watched Gordon exhale deeply on the television. "We have no other suspects at this time."

"Commissioner, are you looking at the late District Attorney Dent as a possible suspect?" Another reporter shouted out as the Russian translation scrolled across the bottom of the large screen. "All of the victims were individuals that he is speculated to have had reasons to be at odds with."

"No comment." Gordon waved the question away as he turned and walked away from the podium, the Mayor joining him in the withdrawal while the press shouted more questions at the two of them. The image in Gotham shrunk and repositioned itself in the upper right corner of the screen as the Russian reporters returned and explained the situation and possible ramifications of it. While on the international stage the status of a vigilante in an American city had little impact, the Batman had captivated the entire world, and the Russians, including these workers, were just as fascinated by the costumed crime fighter as anyone.

"I knew it." Gustav smiled as he turned to the two faux-Germans. "The Batman, he does not break the sixth commandment. It is a foolish policy, one that will lead to his death, but at least he will go straight to Heaven after his dead body hits the pavement." The comment elicited a chuckle from Dietre and a barely noticeable shudder from Herr Einwalter.

"I think you might be right, my friend." Dietre nodded. "But please, continue with Mr. Knyazev."

-

Lucius Fox maneuvered the oversized forklift alongside the flatbed he had driven into the previously completed and closed off section of the cave a couple of hours before. He struggled to get the placement of the forks just right so as not to damage the RAH 66 Comanche stealth attack helicopter that was resting on an enormous metal pallet on the bed of the truck. Getting it here and unloading it was proving to be a tremendous chore, but was nowhere near as difficult as acquiring it and eliminating its existence from all conceivable records. Lucius had made sure that there would be no way that this vehicle could be traced back to Wayne the way that the Tumbler had.

The Wayne Enterprises CEO failed to hear the sounds of the locks on the metal door on the far wall disengaging over the forklifts engine, but the solid metal door closing shut behind the two disguised men forced his head to turn toward them. Lucius smiled as he shut off the forklift's engine. "Why Dietre and Wolfgang, how good it is to see the two of you."

Bruce returned the smile through his make-up and fake facial hair. "I see you got me my Christmas present early, Lucius. Thank you."

"Yes, well, I'll leave the last bit of unwrapping to the two of you." The older man replied as he lowered himself from the large vehicle.

"Fair enough." Bruce responded. "Any word on the new wheels?"

"I believe Herr Einwalter here is handling the acquiring of your new Lamborghini." Lucius shot back as he shook hands with the disguised Alfred.

"Not the wheels I was referring to." Bruce grinned.

"I've delivered most of the components to your downtown subterranean facility. The rest will arrive within the next two weeks. The parts are as prefabricated as we could get without raising too much suspicion, but there will still be a great deal of assembly required." Fox explained.

"And you're sure it will work?" Bruce pressed.

Fox cocked his head. "Oh yeah. I've spent most of my free time becoming an expert on this subject matter since you told me what you wanted nearly a year ago. I know a great deal more about the requirements for this vehicle than those Swiss experts you introduced me several months ago. I've gone over the specs, and it'll work."

"Well then, I guess it's probably good that Rinspeed wouldn't entertain my offer to buy their car." Bruce joked.

"I suppose that's the silver lining for the financial end of this endeavor." Lucius replied dryly. "Well gentlemen, if you've no further need for me, I'd like to get home before my wife puts out a missing person report."

Bruce looked over the helicopter. "Just be thankful you don't have a butler, otherwise you'd have already been declared dead."

"This would be a good opportunity to remind the young master that, as he's fully grown, there is nothing to stop me from taking the tidy sum his father left to me and enjoy my golden years far away from ungrateful, overly dramatic crime fighters." Alfred quipped.

"Oh no you don't." Lucius grinned. "You're not leaving me alone with him. As much as I loved Thomas, I'm not adopting your load."

Bruce rolled his eyes as he hopped into the forklift. "Good night Lucius."

"Good night gentlemen."

--

"Damn, I thought you said they'd all left!" Selina, in her black mask and bodysuit, dove behind a tree as Lucius drove his Lexus that Alfred and Bruce had driven there for him down the long driveway away from the manor.

"There's always a straggler." Dick smirked from the branch above his cousin, in his red suit and black mask as well.

She was a little startled as he had been on the ground behind her a moment before. "I swear that you are a shaved chimp."

"I guess that makes you a monkey's aunt." Dick joked as Lucius drove out of view and he dropped to the ground.

"Second cousin junior. I'm still young enough to date some of your more mature friends." Selina retorted as she quickly made her way across the grounds to the enormous house.

"Great, so even if we don't get pinched for this I'll still have to send care packages to your prison cell once you get nailed on statutory." Dick snapped back as he crossed the gravel drive and pressed himself against the outer wall. "I still have a bad feeling about this."

"Don't worry kid, I'm almost certain that the only working security was around the perimeter. It should be a cakewalk going forward." Selina answered.

"I'm not worried about getting busted." Dick replied. "Robbing Wayne just isn't sitting well with me. Even if he's a trust fund prick, he's still not hurting anyone and his money is going into more charitable foundations than just about anyone else alive."

"A little late for second thoughts now." Selina countered as she took a gamble and opened the door. "You've got to be kidding me." She mumbled quietly.

"The seconds thoughts have been around since last night when you concocted this scheme." Dick replied as he followed his cousin into the mansion.

"Fine, we'll pay him back when we're done." Selina hissed quietly as she looked around the foyer. "Now shut up, that door being unlocked leads me to believe that there may be more stragglers."

-

Alfred walked out of the hall washroom, toweling off the soapy water still clinging to his face as he made his way back to the study where Bruce, who had taken off his disguise before him, was waiting. "Ah, it's great to be me again."

"Admit it, you love it." Bruce smirked.

"It does take me back to my theater days, but Wolfgang Einwalter is no Hamlet." Alfred answered with a smile. "I'd like to take one last walk through to see the progress if you don't mind."

"Go ahead, I'm fine here." Bruce replied as he sat down in a large chair. "I've got some thinking to do."

Alfred nodded and left the room, walking down the hallway toward the front of the house. He intended to go up the stairs to examine the various bedrooms, but stopped short as he came face to face with a pair of burglars. Over twenty-five feet separated Alfred from the masked intruders, but he knew by their lithe frames that they could cover that distance in moments. "Leave now and you may have a chance to evade the authorities. I'm sure the security system has already alerted Gotham's finest to you intrusion."

"The security system isn't operational yet." The female replied, her body tensed for action.

"Hell, the door wasn't even locked." The male, whose voice made him sound quite young, added.

"Regardless, if it is your intention to defile this house any more than you already have, you will have to dispense with me to do so." Alfred stood upright.

"Fine." Selina responded. "Robin, dispense with him while I get to the defiling. And keep your eyes peeled for anyone else." With that the black-clad woman sprinted to another part of the house, leaving Alfred and Dick alone in the hallway.

"Look Jeeves, I don't want to hurt you." The red and black-garbed young man approached Alfred. "Let me bind your hands and feet, and I swear I will not hurt or degrade you any more than that, and I will let you loose when we leave."

"How very courteous of you." Alfred announced as he took on a boxer's stance. "But I fear that I am unable to comply with your requests."

"Come on Old Timer, don't make me do this." Dick pleaded, as he got closer to the butler.

"I am not making you do anything young man." Alfred quickly shuffled forward and shot out a jab. Though he had been thoroughly trained in pugilism and moved with the speed of a man half his age, the masked man easily snapped his head out of the way.

"Not bad. I'm sure you'd be the reigning champ in the retirement home, but you're just a little outclassed here." Dick replied as he casually circled around the older man, giving off an impression that he was utterly without concern of being struck. Alfred shifted and threw a right cross, which Dick sidestepped and caught, twisting Alfred's arm behind his back. "Enough. I can do this without hurting you, but your dignity will take a beating if you keep fighting me."

"Well then, why don't you fight me?" Dick turned to see the master of the house coming toward him, fury in his very familiar eyes. The would-be burglar didn't have time to try and figure out why this man looked so familiar to him, as he barely had time to release the butler and get into a defensive position before the man was upon him. Dick shuffled back quickly, giving Bruce an opportunity to look over his friend, butler and adoptive father figure. "Are you alright Alfred?"

"Fine sir, I suggest you concern yourself with your own well being." Alfred replied.

Bruce was furious, but managed to control his rage and consider how this would best be dealt with. Bruce Wayne was athletic, and could very well have taken some martial arts courses as a kid, but he didn't want to display any more prowess than was necessary to take out this thug. The best course of action would be to simply let the burglars take what they wanted and go. The problem was that this thug was charging him now, and was a much better brawler than the average burglar. There was no way for Bruce not to fight now, and with each passing second Bruce was forced to reveal more and more of his skills to keep this man from gaining the offensive. He was fast, faster than Bruce, the billionaire was forced to concede, but the masked man was smaller, weaker, and though extremely proficient with unarmed combat, was nowhere near Bruce's level of expertise. But he seemed to be in optimum condition, whereas Bruce was still nursing a shallow bullet wound in his side.

Dick had been pushed back out of the hallway, through the foyer, and into one of the side rooms. He leapt upon one of the covered high back chairs, gripping the top with his hands and using it at a pommel horse to spin around and throw a double side-kick while in mid-air at Bruce. The billionaire managed to block the strikes, but was duly impressed with the maneuver as well as the dismount that gave the masked man the position and momentum to take the offensive momentarily, but only momentarily as Bruce once again used his superior size and martial skill to push the smaller man back again. The other man did a back flip and then cart wheeled over a couch to put some distance between them and buy him some time, but it was only a couple of moments before Wayne was upon him again.

The floor and all the furniture were almost completely covered in drop cloths, and footing was sometimes difficult to achieve for both men. Dick realized quickly that he was almost completely outclassed by this man, though this man he assumed to be Wayne seemed to be trying to offer extra protection to his right side without making it seem obvious. Likely an injury, but Dick just wasn't getting a chance to capitalize on it. Stepping back, the boy's foot planted on a piece of cloth that slid against the polished floor underneath, putting Dick off balance.

Bruce saw an opening to end the fight using fairly conventional and common fighting methods, and quickly tackled the smaller man and pinned him to the floor. "Enough! Stay down!" Bruce growled at the struggling thief.

The burglar pulled and twisted frantically beneath Bruce's pin, but each attempt to shift Wayne's weight, twist or slip out was countered the moment it was attempted. Dick glared up into his captor's eyes and a wave of recognition flowed over his own blue eyes. "Tom Alfreds?"

Bruce was stupefied. He immediately released the intruder's left wrist and tore the mask off, startled at the sight of the boy that had aided him the night before. He then scrutinized the boy's face and compared it against those that had known Thomas Alfreds. The answer came instantly. "Dick?"

The youth chopped his thumb knuckle hard into the side that this man had been protecting throughout the fight, causing Wayne to groan in agony and roll off to the side. Dick jumped up to his feet and sprinted into the foyer. "Cat! Time to go!" The boy wrenched the front door open and yelled as loudly as he could behind him into the house. "Catwoman, get your ass down here!"

Dick looked up the stairs and saw the butler slam against the wall and slide to the ground. A heartbeat later Selina came into view and looked down toward him, ready to ask what was going on. When she saw her partner without his mask her eyes grew wide with fear. "What the hell is going on?" She asked as she leapt down the stairs, landing on every fourth before hitting the ground running.

"Later!" Dick replied as Selina sprinted past him out the door. He turned to look at Bruce, Tom or whatever the hell his name was before he turned to run as well, and saw Bruce standing in the entranceway to the foyer merely staring at him. The two locked eyes.

"Now Robin!" Selina's voice broke the optic lock and Dick charged after her, slamming the door as he made his escape.

-

"I can't believe the cops aren't here yet." Selina muttered as she drove the car through the heavily forested roads leading from the Wayne estate toward Gotham. "It had to have taken us a good three minutes to get back to the wall, jump it, and then another three to get to our car. They've got to have black and whites trolling around these roads all the time anyway, how they haven't responded yet is beyond me." The woman shook her head. "I mean, it's Wayne friggin' Manor!"

"The cops aren't coming." Dick replied silently, lost in his own thoughts.

"What does that mean?" Selina snapped. "Seriously, what's going on? You'd better tell me what's going through that head of yours or I'll knock it off your shoulders!"

Dick thought about telling her, but upon finally putting all the pieces together realized he couldn't and shook his head. "You deserve an explanation, but I can't give you one. Just trust me on this, OK?"

Selina pressed her lips tightly together and glared at the boy, but soon softened. "You're the only one I do trust, so, as much as it pains me to do so, it's dropped." She then gave him a punch in the arm. "But you've got me really freaked out, you know?"

"A little freaked out on this end too." Dick muttered as he continued staring into his lap. He then looked over at her. "Did you manage to steal anything?"

"Not much." Selina shrugged as she reached down and pulled up a large, but almost empty sack. "A few trinkets that'll fetch us a few G's, but nothing like I was hoping to get."

"We're giving this back." Dick stated quietly but firmly.

"What? No way!" Selina shouted. "Are you out of your f…"

"We're giving this back!" Dick snarled. "I know you don't understand, but it's something we have to do."

Selina stared at the boy in disbelief before the responsibility of driving pulled her eyes forward again. "And how do you propose we return this stuff? Knock on the door and offer an apology?"

Dick nodded, still deep in thought. "Exactly." He then turned and met Selina's stunned glance. "Again, I realize you don't get what's going on, but you have to trust me. Please, just trust me. It's something I have to do."

-

"Alright Sweetie, I'll unpack, why don't you just hop into bed and get some rest?" The teenaged Selina Kyle ushered her young, recently orphaned cousin into the room that they had just rented under an assumed name in Hungary. Fortunately John had taught Dick enough of his native language so that they could find their way around without arousing too much suspicion.

"No Sel, I'll help. Mom and Dad always insisted I pull my weight." The clearly exhausted child protested.

"Baby, you've done all that and more." Selina caressed the boy's hair and head. "I'm the reason we're on the run, not you. But we're almost safe. Just a few more jumps and they'll never be able to find us. Now go to bed, you need your rest."

Dick was wobbling between acquiescing and further protesting when something caught his eye. "What's that?"

Selina turned and looked at the manila envelope resting on the round table in front of the worn couch. She walked over and opened it up. Inside was banking information pertaining to a money market account in Richard John Grayson's name for one hundred thousand dollars. Along with the information was a hand written note.

'Selina,

I told John and Mary that I would like to take care of Dick's post secondary education. This fund is to be devoted to that. Should an emergency arise where you need to dip into it, then so be it, but barring such an emergency this is to be used only as intended.

Do not worry about the criminals that have been hunting you in retaliation for Zucco's death. They have been thrown off the trail, and as long as you lay low, stay out of Italy and away from Haley's Circus, you should have no problems from them.

If ever you need assistance beyond these funds, you can contact a man named Alfred Pennyworth. He is a relative of mine in the United States with access to vast resources. His contact information is on the card enclosed within the envelope. I urge you not to hesitate to contact this man should either you or Dick require assistance in any way.

As for Dick, I do not agree with the path you have chosen for the two of you, and should you ever decide that Dick would be better off being raised by someone else, Mr. Pennyworth will see to it that he be placed in an excellent home. He is an extraordinary child with vast potential. I realize you have your own dreams and aspirations, but as long as you choose to keep him, his well-being is to be your paramount concern.

The best of luck to the both of you, and Dick, always remember that no matter how a man chooses to lead his life, that life is still precious and beyond your right to take from him. Be safe.

T.A.'

The two of them shared a shocked look with each other.

--

"Master Bruce, if you are certain that the invasion of the Manor was not related to you being Batman, why did you not alert the police?" Alfred asked as the two of them took the elevator down to Batman's downtown headquarters.

"Alfred, I know you won't be able to accept this, but you're just going to have to trust me." Bruce replied as the doors opened and he walked quickly toward the large series of computers in the center of the vast, well-lit room.

Alfred followed Bruce to the terminals and proceeded to watch what he was doing over his shoulder. After several moments the billionaire seemed to find what he was looking for. Alfred peered at the screen with names of people recently entering through Customs at Gotham International Airport. The butler noted two names that his charge was entering into various search engines. "Sir, this Richard Grayson and Selina Kyle, are they the individuals that attacked us earlier?"

"Let this one drop, Alfred." Bruce muttered as he attempted to track the pair.

"As you wish sir. Though I would think that being physically assaulted would earn me some consideration."

"He saved my life Alfred. And you yourself admitted that the boy seemed to go out of his way not to hurt you. Plus, I'm pretty sure his presence in Gotham isn't coincidental and he'll probably be getting himself killed if I don't stop him." Bruce countered. "Now, if you really want to lament being beaten up by a girl…"

"That's quite enough young man." Alfred scolded as Bruce stood from his chair and made his way to his equipment storage unit. "Going out I see. Might I remind you that you were shot less than twenty-four hours ago?"

Bruce offered a shrug and a lop-sided grin. "Don't wait up."

--

He had insisted on going on another one of his walkabouts the moment they got back to the penthouse and changed out of his bodysuit. There was a lot going on in that kid's head, and he had asked her not to pry. And she wouldn't, at least not with annoying questions. But she was the closest thing that boy had to a mother, and she'd never seen him so thrown. More importantly, aside from crushes he had formed on local girls throughout the years he had never kept anything from her. Selina Kyle would eventually find out what had gone on at Wayne Manor, but for now she just wanted to be sure the kid would be all right.

For now he seemed to be OK. He was miles away from Little Odessa, sticking to the downtown Gotham strip. She had been watching him from the rooftops ever since he walked out of the hotel. Still in her work clothes, she would be all but invisible, and unless she did something stupid like fall, he would be oblivious to her invasion of his privacy. She smiled as some teenage girls walked by him, turned to watch him walking away, giggling with each other and trying to get one of them to gather the nerve to go talk to him. It was a common sight for Selina, the child was stunning, but so damned shy ever since the death of his parents. Some day she would find a way break him out of his shell.

It was then that she noticed a shadow drop from the top of one building onto the roof of a lower building across the street. She stared at the black form as it quickly and efficiently made its way from one end of the roof to the other, almost gliding as it went. Gliding? No, something was trailing behind the form. A cape. Batman!

Selina smiled slyly as she watched him sprint to the edge of the roof and leap across the alley like an Olympic long jumper to the roof on the other side. Not bad, she thought, especially given all the armor and weapons he was reported to have on him. She wondered who he was after, and suddenly realized that he may be after something. "Shit, the cowl." She grumbled quietly as she took off after him. Sure enough, when Dick slowed, the Batman slowed. When Dick stopped to look at something closely, the Batman took perch somewhere and watched him.

Selina smiled as she watched the vigilante launch a thin grappling cable to a tall building on her side of the street and seem to fly over the street. She took to the shadows and watched him land on the roof of the building ahead of her. She peered down at the street and saw that a pair of women in their thirties, who were apparently less timid than their teenaged predecessors, had stopped to talk to Dick. Damn cougars, Selina thought malevolently as she considered confronting these would-be child molesters, but knew that Dick was old enough to deal with them on his own. Despite the rampant hormones raging through his body, he had the self-respect to save the first time at least for someone special. Of course, this really wasn't an area that the two of them talked about much, and quite frankly, Selina wasn't sure whether the first time had come and gone or not. Perhaps he had gotten that out of the way and would decide to take them up on whatever they were about to offer him. Whatever the case, he'd be OK. She figured that he could beat the hell out of any jealous husbands that caught him, and as a sixteen year old boy he wasn't so emotionally fragile that she'd come back to find him taking an 'I'm so dirty' shower afterwards. She smiled upon realizing that she was projecting her morality onto the kid again. He'd never do anything with a married woman, and despite not knowing for sure, she was pretty confident that he was still a virgin.

The Batman was intently watching the inebriated women flirting with the boy, so Selina deployed her claws, gracefully made her way across the building, and slowly did a little gliding herself toward the back of the Batman. She didn't want to kill the psycho, but she would shred the hell out of him to teach him never to mess with her kid cousin. She was silent as she got to within ten yards of him.

"Any closer and I'll be forced to think that you're trying to sneak up on me." A gravelly voice cut through the growing darkness. "And I'd be forced to take precautions against someone trying to sneak up on me. You wouldn't like these precautions." The Batman stood and turned to face the black-clad woman.

The woman stopped, smiled and playfully placed a hand on the hip she was jutting out. "I must admit that you do cut an impressive figure." She looked past him toward the activity on the street below. "It's too bad that you seem more interested in that kid down there. Or is it one of the women he's with? Heck, you're a celebrity, you could probably have both."

"Don't play with me Catwoman." The large man spat.

"Catwoman? Do I look like I'm in a cat outfit to you?" Selina bantered, though she was a little nervous that the chosen term might be more than just a lucky guess at her professional name.

"Perhaps you prefer Ms. Kyle?" Batman replied. "Don't bother denying who you are, and don't worry about me informing Interpol of your current whereabouts, or the various European and Asian criminals that you've been stealing from for the past six years. I'm just here to make sure that Richard stays away from any Russian mobsters. I would hope that you would have the same goal."

"Who the hell are you? How do you know this?" Selina snarled as she took a few aggressive steps toward the Batman.

"Richard saved my life last night. I felt it prudent to look him up in case I had a chance to return the favor." Batman replied. "Which I have in part. I carry some influence with Commissioner Gordon, and he carries some influence with Bruce Wayne. Your bungled break in theft and assault never existed. But keep in mind; my debt is to that child, not to you. I will have no problem taking you down."

"Oh, I beg to differ." Selina lunged forward and slashed toward the Batman. "You'll have nothing but problems trying to take me down!"

The Batman jumped away, was off balance for a moment, which left him vulnerable to a snap-kick from the woman. He was far enough away to avoid most of her power, and after stumbling back a few more steps he regained his balance and composure. Selina came at him again with broad and flowing punches and kicks. Her strikes were easily evaded by the Batman, who landed a palm strike to her chest that sent her falling on her rear and leaving her seated on the gravel on the roof.

"Save the Tae-Kwon-Do for the dance studio." Batman growled, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Kiss my ass!" An enraged Selina snarled as she quickly got back to her feet.

"A very tempting offer, Ms. Kyle, but I'm afraid I have to pass on it." Batman fought to suppress the smile along with the urge to stare at the body part offered for kissing as the woman twisted up onto a standing position.

"Don't gloat too much about knowing my name, big boy…" the woman seductively covered the distance between them and gently ran a claw from the vigilante's abdomen up over his chest, along his neck and under his chin. The Batman remained rigid; ready to pounce on her should anything about her indicate an attack, but until such an indication came to light he played along. "I don't think that hat of yours that I picked up early this morning is carried in too many haberdasheries." She stood on her tiptoes and brought her face to within an inch of his, her breath mingling with his. "I'm sure there are a few specialists out there that can take a gander at that hood and figure out where it came from. From there, where it went, and well, that's where you'll be."

Batman smiled. "I've gotten good at covering my tracks."

Catwoman smiled even more broadly. "So's the kid." She cast her gaze to the side of his shoulder toward the street below. Batman turned and saw that the Grayson boy was nowhere to be seen. "Toodles." He turned back to see the woman running and jumping off the other side of the roof. He shook his head. He could catch her, but it just wasn't worth it. Plus, while he was loath to admit it, he had been enjoying their sparring and bantering session a lot. A lot.

--

Coleman Reese rolled over in his bed on the verge of tears. It was seven in the morning and he had not managed to get a wink of sleep. Telling the world that he was aware of Batman's identity was the biggest mistake he had ever made. The majority of citizens held him accountable to some degree for the destruction of Gotham Central Hospital, the large number of Batman sympathizers, ranging from the mildly appreciative to the fanatical disciples, considered him either a baseless muckraker should he be full of shit or a traitor to justice should he truly know Batman's identity. And then there was the small but terrifyingly psychotic following of anarchist devoted to the Joker. This last group would not yank him off the street if they saw him, but videotape their torture and send it with a love note to Arkham hoping the Joker would appreciate their efforts and bestow some sort of crazy-world knighthood upon them.

Reese got out of bed and made his way into the living room, looking over the small, barely furnished apartment that he had been forced to live in and shook his head sadly. After the debacle of the Mike Engle show, he had been forced to hire a full time security force. To afford it he needed to sell his condo. The good news was that while the housing market sucked, a downtown Gotham condo was a hot commodity these days. Most people buy them hoping to catch a look at Batman. Of course, you could count on one hand the number of sightings made by credible individuals, and most of those were in the ghettos, but it had kept demand for Gotham condos high while nearly every other section of real estate crashed.

He pondered how he could go about rectifying his financial situation. He could always get another job; he was a damn fine banker after all. Of course, it wouldn't be nearly as good as the one he just left. Wayne Enterprises was the top tier of top tier employers, and any remotely comparable company he could get an interview with would certainly find out why he had been dismissed. Confidentiality breaches and attempted blackmail were deal breakers to say the least. The prospect of honest employment was looking less and less feasible the more he thought about it.

Perhaps he could parlay his knowledge…well, heavily supported suspicion of Batman's identity into a living. It was clear that Wayne wouldn't pay for his silence; perhaps the revelation would yield a fortune. Of course, this would be as good as a death sentence for Wayne. It seemed irresponsible to make such a revelation when he still had a few lingering doubts in his own mind. But what if voiced those doubts? Present what he found in book form, include the explanations given by Wayne and Fox, and let the reader make their own decision. That was it. There had been messages left on his voicemail by interested publishing companies before he had changed his number and done what he could to drop off the radar. That was it. He'd be fair with his presentation of the facts, label speculation as such, and maybe even allow Wayne to write a rebuttal chapter to be included in the book. Perhaps even cut him in on the profit; not that he needed it.

For the first time in days, a wave of relief washed over the former Wayne Enterprises employee. The relief was short lived as he heard loud voices followed by gunshots and scuffling outside his door. Reese lurched up to his feet just as he saw his door being kicked in by a large black boot. The monstrous KGBeast walked into the apartment, his right hand clutching the elongated and broken neck of one of his security guards, a metal box with a smoking gun barrel and bloody bayonet where his left hand should have been. "Oh my God!"

The masked behemoth glared at him. "You come with me."

--

Selina stretched out in the large bed, her limbs poking out from the tussle of blankets and sheets. She had slept well; her dreams had been more…interesting than they'd been in a long time. She smiled as she realized that the cause was her heated discussion with the masked do-gooder on the roof last night. While every rational thought in her head told her to pack and leave town, every other part of her being longed for more encounters with the Dark Knight. She looked over at the clock, and smiled at the soft green 2:34 glowing from the dark screen; still had to be morning somewhere in the world.

There was a soft knock at her door. "Come in, my little Gypsy."

Dick walked in, freshly showered and wearing a tight red T-shirt and black jeans. In his hand was an empty cardboard box. "Sorry to bother you, but I can't wait any longer. Where did you hide the stash from Wayne?"

Selina sat up, a look of confusion on her face. Despite not knowing why he was interested, she nodded to the bag on the floor in the corner. Dick walked over, scooped up the sack and placed it in the box. "What are you doing?" Selina asked.

"Giving it back." Dick replied as he scanned the room intently, moving again as he caught site of the Batman's missing cowl resting on one of the pillows near Selina's head. He didn't even want to ponder what it was doing there. "This too."

"What?" Selina jerked out of bed as Dick grabbed the cowl and dropped it into the box as well, the wrinkles on her white tank top and shorts straightening out as she moved. "No you aren't!"

"Yes I am!" Dick snapped back.

"What, you're going to drive your bike on up to Wayne Manor, knock on the door and hand them the trinkets?" Selina scoffed. "And how the hell do you plan on returning the mask to Batman?"

"I'll figure something out." Dick replied. "As for Wayne's stuff, yeah, only I'm going to the apartment building he's staying at now. But I'll just walk up to him and hand his stuff over."

"No way buddy." Selina blocked his path to the doorway.

"Selina, please." Dick's shoulders slumped. "He's not a crook, we can't steal from him. We have to give his stuff back. And yeah, I know you think he'll call the cops, but trust me, he won't."

Selina was startled for a moment, but looked down as she pondered something. "Yeah, I know he won't."

Now it was Dick's turn to be confused. "Oh, how's that?"

Selina shrugged. "Just a hunch, though it's still a bad idea."

"Yeah, probably, but I'm still doing it." Dick said as he squirmed around Selina, giving her a peck on the cheek as he got past her.

Selina turned as Dick left her room and called after her. "Hey, if you draw a blank with giving Batman's face back, let me know. I think I'd be able to get his attention."

"I'm sure you could." Dick replied as he left the suite.

--

Bruce stretched out in his large bed, his black silk sheets caressing his body as he forced himself to wake up. After his encounter with the woman, he had given up on finding Grayson and gone about on one of his regular patrols. Fortunately it was a fairly uneventful night, but still a long one. He heard Alfred enter the room.

"Master Bruce?"

Bruce lifted himself into a sitting position. "Yeah Alfred?"

"A situation has arisen that you need to be made aware of." Alfred answered as he walked in, gripped the television remote control on the table next to Bruce's bed and turned on TV.

He switched it to one of the local news stations where the pretty female reporter was standing in front of a middle of the road apartment complex with police tape over the front door and officers walking in and out. "The police are not saying whether or not they have any suspects at this time, but given the events of the last two weeks, the speculation as to who would want to abduct Mr. Reese is more than rampant."

"Coleman Reese?" Bruce bolted upright out of bed. "When was he taken?"

"According to the news, roughly seven and a half hours ago. The police successfully kept the media from learning of this until just a few minutes ago. Several of his hired guards were killed in the abduction." Alfred replied as he followed his employer out of the bedroom and toward the panic room that possessed the most complex computer system in the world, one that was linked into the GPD mainframe.

-

The wind battered Dick's black leather jacket as his motorcycle slowed and pulled into a street-side parking spot across the street from the apartment building Wayne owned and currently resided in, the box nestled in his lap. It had taken him a lot longer to get there than he had anticipated, no doubt a result of the baseball game that would be starting in a little over an hour just a couple of miles from there. The teenager leapt off his motorcycle and weaved his way through the cars until he was across the street and on the sidewalk in front of the building.

Dick ran up the steps to the large glass revolving doors and entered the building. He walked up to the security desk in front. "Can I help you?" The middle-aged guard asked from behind the desk.

"I'm here to deliver something to Mr. Wayne personally." Dick smiled at the man before shifting his gaze to take in the details of the ornately furnished lobby.

"Do you have an appointment?" The guard asked, knowing full well that the boy did not.

"No, but if you call up and tell him that Dick Grayson is here to see him, I'm sure he'll tell you to let me up." Dick answered the man.

"Look kid, Mr. Wayne's a busy man. Lot's of people come in here insisting that he'd want to see him." The guard replied dismissively.

Dick took his jacket off. "Look, if Wayne instructs you to tell me to bug off, you can keep my jacket. I'm that certain that he'll want to see me."

The guard rolled his eyes. "Well, my son does need a new jacket…"

"Remember, it's only his if Wayne tells me to piss off." Dick clarified, a grin etched on his face.

"Yeah, yeah…" The guard lifted the phone to his ear and dialed the penthouse extension. "Uh, hello Mr. Pennyworth…"

-

"Dick Grayson you say?" Alfred hid his surprise very well. "Let me inform Mr. Wayne. Definitely do not allow the boy to leave the lobby." Alfred carried the phone to the open wall panel that led to the penthouse panic room. "Master Bruce, it seems you have a visitor."

"Not now Alfred." Bruce muttered as he poured over the information regarding the Reese kidnapping.

"But sir, the visitor in question in young Richard Grayson." Alfred nodded gently as Bruce turned to face him with a look of disbelief. Upon realizing Alfred was completely serious, Bruce nodded. Alfred raised the phone to the side of his face. "Please send him up."

-

The elevator doors parted to reveal the tall, elegant and impeccably dressed butler standing at attention. Dick swallowed, and then exited the elevator with a sheepish grin. "Alfred Pennyworth I presume?"

"Yes sir." The Englishman stared down as the nervous youth shifted the box he was carrying under his right arm.

"So, you're the emergency contact." The teenager looked the man over.

"I beg your pardon?" Alfred asked, having no idea of what he was referring to.

"Uh, never mind. Anyway, I believe I owe you an apology." Dick muttered as he chanced a glance up at the eyes looking down on him.

"I should say that you do." Alfred replied.

"Well then, I'm sorry I broke into your home and assaulted you." Dick looked back down at the floor. "I wish that I had some sort of reason that would justify or even mitigate why I did what I did, but I don't. No reason, no excuse. I'm just sorry. It won't happen again."

Alfred was touched by the lad's sincerity. "Chin up Master Richard. Just see to it that the stolen property is returned and all will be forgiven."

Dick looked up and displayed a mischievous grin as he tapped the top of the box. "Way ahead of you. Where do you want this stuff?"

"Come with me." Alfred led the boy into the living room. "Please have a seat anywhere you would like, you may unburden your load on any table as well."

"Thanks Alfredo." Dick answered as he lowered the box to an elaborate oak coffee table.

"That's Alfred, young sir." Alfred corrected.

Dick looked up, the same grin on his face. "Sure thing Alfred. Sorry about that."

"I'll retrieve the Master." Alfred announced before turning and exiting the room.

Dick wandered across the room and peered out the floor to ceiling windows that gave him a view of downtown Gotham in the mid afternoon light. "You were front page news yesterday." Dick turned to see the man that he had previously known as Tom Alfreds walking toward him. "You got bumped to page three today." Bruce tossed Dick the two newspapers.

Dick managed to catch the two rolled up papers before they unraveled and fluttered everywhere. He lifted the previous day's Gotham Gazette and read the headline 'Anonymous Boy Wonder Aids Batman in Restaurant Shootout'. "Groovy." Dick replied with a lack of interest as he dropped the papers on the table near the box. "Little surprised you're admitting to that right off the bat." The boy shot a broad grin at the bad pun.

"Ugh, that was terrible." Bruce walked around the couch and stood before the boy, standing just a few inches taller. "I might as well admit it because you've already got me dead to rights. Besides, I know I can trust you with my secret."

"Oh really?" Dick cocked an eyebrow. "Why, because you set up a college fund for me? I think saving your life the other night might be worth at least that, especially given the fact that it's a fraction of a pittance to the likes of Bruce Wayne, ain't that right, Tommy?"

"I think you've earned the right to call me Bruce." The billionaire smiled as he sat down on the couch. "And my trust in you has nothing to do with any sense of obligation that you might have. You're not obliged to me in the least, but I'm still sure you won't divulge Batman's identity."

"Yeah, but you can't fault me for wanting to have a little fun with you." Dick smirked as he sat in another chair adjacent to the couch, propped his feet up on the coffee table and pushed the box toward Bruce with the tips of his shoes. "Anyway, there's you stuff."

Bruce leaned forward, opened the slats of the box top and started chuckling as he pulled out the missing cowl. "I've been wondering where I put this thing."

"Just be thankful Alfred showed up when he did, otherwise my…associate would have gotten all your duds." Dick joked.

"Mmm-hmmm. And just how much of this does Selina know?" Bruce asked.

"Know? Pretty much nothing." Dick answered. "Aside from seeing how freaked out I was leaving your house, and that going by you stashing your batsuit the good doctor knows the man beneath the mask but has no knowledge of the Batman. I haven't told her anything, but she is bright enough to know something's up, and might even put it together. Especially if I unload your stuff and the cowl in the same trip."

"I see. I had a run in with her last night, you know." Bruce offered.

"Yeah, saw you guys dancing on the roof across the street." Dick smiled. "You earn a point for coming clean. Not enough to even the score against you for shadowing me, but it helps."

"Lucky me." Bruce nodded and leaned back. "So, the KGBeast…" The billionaire let that hang out there as he watched the boy's eyes harden.

"I want more than just his hand." Dick hissed.

"So you want to kill him, do you?" Bruce baited, trying to gauge the boy's reaction. The teenager's steely glare let him know his intentions. "Do you resent me for my interference in the attempt to have you kill Zucco?"

Dick shook his head. "No, killing a man would have been too much for me to handle at nine years old."

"And now that you're sixteen, you can handle it?" Dick nodded as his eyes glazed over and his mind seemed to travel a million miles away. "You need to think this through, son. Once you kill you can't undo it."

"I'm not your son." Dick answered, still staring off into nothing specific out the window.

"Just a common term Dick. I didn't mean anything by it." Bruce replied almost defensively.

"OK, then it's a common term used to highlight a subject's youth and inexperience." Dick turned his head and focused on the older man. "Believe me, I'm not inexperienced."

"I know Dick." Bruce answered.

"Why do you care anyway?" Dick continued in an agitated manner. "The Beast is a piece of shit. Me taking him out is one less bad guy you have to deal with. I thought you'd want that."

"Dick, I care because…" Bruce shook his head and sat forward. "Well, let's just say that the parallels in our lives are nothing short of frightening. I've been where you've been. Endured so much of what you've endured. Our paths have been so similar that our being led to this point seems almost fated; of course, I don't really believe in fate. But the one main difference is that when I watched someone else kill my parents' murderer, I was old enough to accept that the negative feelings I had regarding his death were more than just youthful squeamishness." Bruce reached forward and placed his hand on the young man's shoulder. "You've borne more hardships than any ten people should ever bear; I couldn't handle it if you had to bear the weight of having taken a life."

Dick stood up, shaking Bruce's hand off in the process. "Like I said, I'm not your son. Sorry for taking your stuff, I'll keep your secret, so have a nice life. Oh, and you can expect to see a check for the current balance of that money market account in the coming days. Don't worry; it's all there. Sel insisted we not touch a dime of it."

Bruce stood up and took an apologetic stance. "Look Dick, I don't mean to lecture you. But this will be a huge mistake. And, as much as I hate saying this, I'll be forced to stop you. Or, if I can't, I'll be forced to bring you in."

A disbelieving look came over Dick's face. "Up yours Batman. Who gave you the right to dictate the rules of vigilantism in this town? And need I remind you that you're a wanted man too?"

Bruce smiled. "Quid pro quo Agent Starling?"

Dick glared at him. "Wrong bird Wayne."

The moment was interrupted by the sound of the elevator ding. "Wait here." Bruce muttered as he started walking toward the elevator doors, Alfred already on his way there ahead of him. Dick watched them disappear into the hallway but shuddered as he heard an unknown group of men yelling and the sounds of scuffling.

He took a step in the direction of the elevators, but then froze and looked down at the cowl resting on the table. "Shit." The boy whispered before grabbing the mask and his jacket, which was too small to pass as Bruce's or Alfred's, and running quickly to the other end of the room and disappearing into the opposite hallway toward the master bedroom.

A moment later Bruce, Alfred and Coleman Reese were being led at gunpoint into the living room by six armed gangsters led by the KGBeast. "Please, take whatever you want, just don't hurt us." Bruce whined.

"Shut up, Batman!" Sascha growled as he pushed Wayne back toward the couch with the tip of his automatic rifle. Bruce considered disarming the man, but the other Russians would mow them down the moment he moved.

Dick silently peered around the corner and cursed silently to himself. He slunk back into Wayne's bedroom and looked around for anything to use as a weapon. He then noted the black silk sheets, and then looked down at the mask in one hand and the black leather jacket in the other. "This is so stupid." He then heard the order to check the rest of the penthouse for others barked out in Russian. The youth scrambled to put his make-shift Batman costume on, sliding the slightly oversized cowl over his head, throwing on and zipping up his jacket, and reaching for the top sheet, folding it over and tucking it into his back collar. Not very convincing, but as long as he kept hidden and/or moving rapidly, it might just work. But how was he going to take these armed men on?

Dick looked to the other side of the room, into the bathroom, and notice that the towel rods looked fairly solid. Longer than the pipes he was accustomed to, but they'd work. He hurried into the lavatory as he heard the approach of what sounded to be two of the intruders. Doing everything he could to muffle the noise, he managed to pry the brass rods off their mounts. He hid in the corner, bars at the ready when he noticed the secret panel in the wall still slightly ajar. One man entered the room, clearly not expecting to find anything. His eyes went straight for the bed. "What I wouldn't give to hear the tales this bed could tell."

The other man followed him in. "Any supermodels in here?" He turned to see 'Batman' in the corner, but only a fraction of a second before the brass bar came down on his head, rendering him unconscious. His comrade turned in time to see the second bar coming his way. Both men fell to the floor, and Dick quickly tossed the bars on Wayne's bed and cracked the wall panel open. Inside was a row of computers, at least one other Batsuit, and most importantly, a utility belt that appeared to be fully equipped. He also spied a pair of metal tonfas. Not quite the Escrima sticks he had become a master of, but they'd be more than a welcome addition to the small arsenal.

There was a great deal more there, but the call from the living room snapped Dick out of his rushed inventory assessment. "Nicky, Alex, what the hell's taking you?"

The teenager wrapped the unique tool-belt around his waist, slid the tonfas between his waist and belt; he didn't have time for anything more. He looked at the tonfas and smirked. "At least there's one weapon I know how to use here." As he made his way down the hall, he pulled out the grappling gun and winced at the barbed hook. "Ouch."

"Nicky, Alex?" Sascha yelled.

"Yeah, coming." Dick called back in a false voice.

"That didn't sound like Nicky or Alex." One of the men commented to Sascha.

"I'll try better next time." The Batman disguised Dick growled as he turned the corner, pointed the grappler at the shoulder of the closest man, and fired. The hook cut all the way through the shoulder, out the other end and landed on the floor. Dick then hit the retract button and the hook flew back into the air, prods extended and latching onto the back of the man's shoulder, and pulling the man rapidly through the air until he slammed into the corner that Dick was standing next to, rendering him unconscious and in need of some very serious medical attention.

"Batman?" The Beast yelled out confused. He then turned to Reese, who was standing next to the chair that Dick had been sitting in earlier, and aimed the weapon mounted on his left wrist. Bruce lunged from the couch and tackled Reese to the ground just as the Beast opened fire. The large Russian considered executing them both, but turned to deal with the Batman. "I kill you later."

The gangsters had taken cover behind the various furnishings throughout the room, but had no real defense for the smoke and gas pellets that 'Batman' was flinging haphazardly into the room. Unfortunately for 'Batman', he had no idea where on the belt his defense was for the gas was, so he was just as susceptible to the effects as everyone else, but that didn't stop him from charging into the smoke filled room with tonfas flailing.

"Oh my God, oh my God. You were telling the truth. I'm so sorry. I was wrong. I'm so sorry Mr. Wayne." Reese muttered in a panic as Bruce dragged him across the floor toward the elevator behind Alfred.

"Fine, just shut the hell up." Bruce snarled between his teeth as he shoved the crawling man forward through the smoke. They reached the stairway entrance next to the elevator and Alfred escorted Reese through the door. "Take him down a couple of floors and either hide or use the elevator to go the rest of the way. Uh…Amber's got to still be in the bedroom, I'm going back for her."

"Godspeed Master Wayne." Alfred offered before leading their betrayer down the stairs.

"You mean he's going back into that for a girl?" Wayne heard Reese question as he started back toward the fray.

"He's both more and less than you've estimated him to be, Mr. Reese. Now please make haste or I'll be happily forced to push you down the stairs." Bruce caught Alfred's reply just as the door shut, and he cut through the penthouse and quickly made his way to his panic room, hoping Dick could hold out for just a minute longer.

"I hear you cough, flying rodent!" The Beast roared out as he fired through the smoke toward Dick's coughing. The youth shut up and lunged away at hearing the Russian's words, thus evading the barrage, but he was in sad shape. His charge into the room had allowed him to take out one more thug, and the other two were balled up on the ground in coughing fits, but the Beast's mask must have filtered the air for him because he seemed to have little or no ill effects. Dick scrambled over the floor, noticing the table in front of him just in time to duck under it. Or rather try to duck under it, but the 'ears' of the cowl caught the table and forced him to fall backward onto his hindquarters.

The Beast heard the table shake and blasted dozens of rounds into it. "You will die, but take solace in knowing that even were I not to kill you now, you would be unable to stop me anyway. The world will watch live on their television sets as thousands of those you have sworn to protect die a painful and protracted death. You would be as helpless as you are now."

"Funny, I don't feel that helpless." The Beast whirled around to see that Batman, now wearing a small gasmask, had somehow managed to get behind him. A small object shot out from the Batman's belt and latched onto the weapon's box attached to the Beast's arm. A moment later a stream of electricity shot through the cord connecting the object to Batman's belt, and the Beast began convulsing as a voltage that would be lethal to a small woman or child surged through his body. Batman jerked forward and began to batter the Russian.

The Beast took several hits before fighting back. He put several steps between them and raised his weapons box toward the Batman and tried to fire. Batman crossed his arms, knowing full well that the device has been rendered non-functional by the electrical shock. "Nyet comrade, you're going to have to take me out some other way."

"Govno!" The Beast bellowed before charging toward the large window and jumping through. He had read reports that the Batman and a woman had survived a fall from this distance. The Beast skidded down the sloped roof, slowed himself, stopped at the edge and looked down. He then pried open a compartment of his box, pulled out some rope, pried a piece of metal from the edge and tied the rope to it before lowering himself over the side. He could survive such a fall, but why go through it unnecessarily?

Batman watched as the former Soviet spy and soldier made his escape before turning to deal with the other intruders. The broken window was causing the smoke to disperse, and the last two conscious thugs were starting to try and get to their feet. A few strikes to the back of their heads sent them back to the floor in unconscious piles. Batman walked over and looked down at the other Batman, still trying to control his coughing fits while balled up on the floor. "He's gone, and they're out."

At hearing that Dick gave into his coughing. After nearly thirty seconds of painful hacking, he finally started working his way to his feet. "Sss…sorry about this being so chaotic. Not familiar with your gear."

"You did just fine." Batman smiled. "You saved three lives and I'm pretty sure you got Reese off my ass for good."

Dick nodded and pulled off the cowl. He glared at the ears that had gotten snagged on the table just a few moments before and alerted the Beast to his general location. "These friggin' things nearly got me wasted!" He lifted the cowl up and brought it down hard, striking the 'ears' against the perforated table and tearing both of them from the cowl.

"Hey!" Batman growled at the destruction of his property.

Dick then tore the sheet off his back and thrust it at Batman. "Just tell me you haven't entertained in awhile. I'd rather not have to burn my clothes and sandpaper the back of my neck."

"Just sweat, and maybe some blood." Batman let the sheet drop.

"Still gross." Dick muttered as he looked over the ear-less cowl. "We need to figure out what the Beast meant by thousands dying a protracted death."

"The world watching on live television. Thousands. He means game five of the American League Division series. Goliaths are hosting the Red Sox at Hill Field. The game will be starting soon."

"OK, what, he's planted a bomb in the stands?" Dick questioned.

"No, a blast isn't very protracted." Batman pondered. "Knyazev spent several months during his teenage years training with a General Peter Burgasov, former Chief Sanitary Physician of the Soviet Army, and an expert on weaponized strains of small pox and other diseases."

"Shit, small pox?" Dick muttered. "But how would he go about infecting thousands? I mean, if he said thousands he's got to intend to focus on the fans and not the players, right? Unless he means the players spread it after they leave the ballpark."

"No, the world's not watching them live after they leave the park." Batman countered. "You were right the first time. He'll go after the fans. My guess is that it'll be through the fire sprinkler system."

Dick looked up. "Still think the bastard shouldn't be killed?" He let that sit for a moment, and finally continued as he realized Batman was still going to retain his no killing policy. "Well, let's stop him."

Batman stared quizzically at the boy. "I'll stop him, you've done more than enough already."

"Uh, do I need to remind you of the stakes here?" Dick snapped back. "This isn't a situation where you go refusing assistance."

"See me in five years, I'll probably have an opening for you then." Batman turned and began binding the wrists and ankles of the unconscious men in the room. He then scooped up the sheet, and then headed back toward his secret room. "For now, get out of town until this smallpox thing has been resolved. Come back after that and we'll discuss your future."

"Bite me." Dick grumbled and started to leave just as the phone started ringing. Batman paused and hit the speaker button. "Bruce Wayne."

"Hello Mr. Wayne. Is everything all right?" Lucius Fox's voice came through. "The front desk security guard failed to check in and his body was found in a broom closet. Several other guards are on the elevator up to you now."

"Well, we have seen quite a bit of activity here Lucius." Batman replied in Bruce Wayne's playful voice as he pulled off his cowl, pulled the phone off the cradle and hurried to his panic room to complete the clothing change. Dick took the hint and hurried to the stairwell.

"What's happened?" Lucius asked.

"Armed men broke in, held Alfred, Reese and myself at gunpoint, and who knows what they would have done had Batman not arrived. Alfred and Reese are taking the stairs down now." Bruce explained as he tugged off his armor and tossed it into the panic room.

"Batman arrived?" Lucius asked incredulously.

"Yes, amazing isn't it?" Bruce smirked as he tossed the last of his Batman paraphernalia into the secret room, tugged up the shorts he had been wearing, and snatched a special cell phone out of the panic room before sealing the entrance just as the elevator dinged to announce the arrival of the security guards. Bruce hustled through the penthouse and met the men in the living room, all of who were marveling at the unconscious and bound men on the floor. "Looks like Dick got Amber out too."

"Dick? Amber?" Fox questioned through the phone. "Who…"

"Dick's the son of an old friend who was in town and paid an impromptu visit. Amber was someone I…" Bruce noticed the interested stares from his security guards. "Well, we met at a club last night. I actually think she slept through it until Dick must have hustled her out and down the back stairwell when these goons burst in."

"How fortuitous for them." Lucius replied. "I'll see to it that Alfred, Reese, your friend's son and Amber are collected."

Bruce smiled and replied quietly. "I wouldn't worry about the latter two. Anyway, I'm handing you off to one of the guards. I need to get some air. Batman used some gas and between that and the excitement I'm feeling a little light headed."

Bruce handed the phone to on of the guards, who accepted it as he turned and looked over the goons. "Is this all of them?"

"No, I think their leader escaped." Bruce pointed to the broken window. "Look, I'm a little freaked out by all of this. I think I'm going to stay in the manor, maybe take a walk, something to help me sort through what just happened. Please see to this and keep your phone on in case I need you...Doug is it?"

"Yes, Doug Bradford, but won't the police want his statement?" The lead guard asked.

Bruce started toward the elevator as Lucius answered the man through the phone. "Mr. Wayne will answer any questions for the police when he's ready."

--

"These are great seats Dad!" Young Jim Gordon Junior squealed as he took his seat for the series finale.

"One of the perks of saving the mayor's life." Barbara Gordon said to her son as she sat down on the aisle seat next to her daughter. The two kids were sandwiched between their parents, with Jim Senior easing into his seat next to their son. "Now you kids mind your manners. Now that Daddy's the commissioner of police…"

"Everybody's going to be watching us." The children replied in unified annoyance.

"Well they are." Barbara gave them a mock glare that immediately melted into a smile. The smile disappeared as she heard the ring tone to her husband's cell phone go off. "Oh Jim, I thought you were going to turn that off."

"You know I can't do that, especially now with the new job." Jim replied as he stood up and pulled the thin phone out of his jeans pocket. "Everyone at the station knows I'm at the game, so they wouldn't call unless it was an emergency." He peered at the outer screen to see who came up on the caller ID, and chuckled a little.

"Who is it?" Mrs. Gordon asked.

"You." Jim flashed his wife a grin. "You must have sat on your phone and set off the speed dial."

"Uh, no I didn't." Barbara insisted. "I made sure to turn mine off when we got out of the car."

A look of confusion came over the Commissioner as he flipped his phone open and raised it to the side of his face. "Who is this?"

"Commissioner, where are you?" Batman's gravelly voice responded through the speaker.

"I'm at the Goliath's game with my family. What's wrong?" Jim asked, standing straighter.

"Get your family out of Hill Field now. It may be the target for a terrorist attack." Batman replied as Bruce Wayne weaved his Tesla Roadster through traffic out of the city, speeding back to the nearly completed manor. "Hold on a second." Bruce pressed the mouth of the black cell phone he was using against his shoulder and dialed a number into a special system built into the car's dashboard.

A moment later Lucius's voice came through. "Yes."

"Are you in position?" Bruce asked urgently.

"Just sliding into the computer terminal now." Lucius replied. "This better be important, the cops are calling me repeatedly about the break-in."

"It's urgent. I'm going to patch you into a conversation I'm having with Gordon." Bruce fired off before adjusting a series of dials to synch up the cell phone signal with the communications device linked to Fox. Bruce then raised the cell phone back to his ear. "I'm back Commissioner."

Gordon was already leading his confused and agitated family out of their seats and up the stone stairs leading to the nearest tunnel. "Not the type of message to drop and then disappear. Now can you be more specific? This is probably the sort of thing that the GDP, and probably a whole slue of other organizations should be made aware of after all!"

"Sorry. Here's the situation as it stands now." Bruce continued in his gravelly Batman voice. "A former KGB agent turned gangster named Anatoli Knyazev has threatened to kill thousands of Gothamites in a protracted manner while the world watched live."

"OK, you're probably right that this is the target." Jim answered. "How's he planning on doing it?"

"A protracted death would seem to rule out the use of a large explosive. This man was trained in his late teens by a Soviet biological weapons expert." Bruce explained as he veered off the main road and sped through the forest on a gravel road that ran into his property. A flick of a switch opened a gate that ran around his property line, and he proceeded past it without slowing down at all. "My guess is that he's going with a strain of small pox that they concocted on Vozrozhdeniya Island back in the seventies. Probably to be administered through the fire sprinkler system. Are you still in the stands?"

"Yeah." Gordon replied into the phone as his family got to the tunnel. He directed his attention to his wife. "Get them out of here and drive to your sister's house. I want you all out of Gotham, now."

"Jim, what's going on?" A panicked Barbara asked her husband.

"Just go, I'll explain everything later." Jim then looked down at his terrified children. "I promise you guys I'll make it up to you, but for now you have to go."

Little Jim looked up excitedly into his father's eyes. "It's him, isn't it?"

Jim nodded to his boy and then indicated for them to get going. Barbara turned and started leading them down the tunnel. "OK, what do you want me to do?"

"Take a good look at the sprinklers above you. Hold on a second." Batman replied as Bruce sped toward the waterfall that fell from the cliff the manor had been built on. He brought the phone around to his front and punched in a code. A moment later the metal wedge that had been built into the interior of the cave sprung to life, thrusting forward to split an opening through the tons of falling water while the metal floor extended forward until it reached the opposite side of the breach. The Roadster sped onto the extended floor through the break in the waterfall and into the cave, startling over a dozen Russian workers. Bruce weaved around them and their work areas as he punched another code into what was clearly much more than a mere cell phone. The locks to the storage area housing the stealth helicopter disengaged and the large metal door began sliding open.

Bruce slowed as he drove past the workers and pressed the mouth of the phone back into his shoulder so that he could speak to Lucius without Gordon hearing. "Mr. Reynard, please instruct Mr. Einwalter that he needs to apologize to the help for his drunken son driving through their work area. I'm sure the disturbance should be quelled with a few dollars."

"Most usually are." Fox replied chuckling.

Bruce drove past the still opening door to the storage area and skidded to a stop. He raised the phone back to his ear as he got out of his car and ran to the opening to have the door stop opening and begin shutting. Once the door's progress was reversed, Bruce ran to a tall metal case and opened it to reveal one of his uniforms with spare weapons lining the inner doors. "Alright Commissioner, please describe the sprinklers as you see them."

"OK." Jim Gordon craned his neck as he looked up at the sprinklers high above the seats. "This is not my area of expertise, but it looks like every third one has a gray box-like thing strapped to it."

Fox's voice came through, though only Wayne could hear him. "That sounds like one of the more commonly anticipated dispersal methods."

"How much of the park's seating do these boxed-sprinklers encompass?" Batman asked as he slipped into his armor.

"As far as I can tell, the entire lower section and what I can see of the upper decks. It looks like every fan will get a dose if those sprinklers go on." Gordon replied. "I'll have the Water Department cut off water to the park."

"No good." Batman replied as he slid the mask over his head. "Hill Field was built with its own back up reservoir for the sprinkler system. We'll have to keep the system from being activated from inside the park."

"I'm here, ready to do whatever needs to be done. But I left my sidearm at home." Gordon answered.

"I'm leaving now, I should be there in a matter of minutes." Batman replied as he finished getting suited up and arming himself.

"I hope you're close, because traffic is a bear for miles around the stadium." Gordon warned.

"I've got a shortcut." Batman replied as he got into the helicopter.

--

Wearing the ear-less cowl instead of his helmet, Dick weaved through traffic, driving on the sidewalks when necessary, on his way to the baseball field. With one hand he fumbled with his cell phone, happy he put the Bluetooth in his ear, and hit the speed dial for Selina's phone. Three rings passed before she finally picked up. "Well Dudley Doright, need to be bailed out?"

"Selina, listen, I need for you to get out of town. I can't explain now, I just need you to do as I say, OK?" Dick instructed as he whizzed between a truck and a cab, weaved over to a gap in parked cars due to a driveway and sped the remainder of the block on the sidewalk.

"Jeez, I though you said he wouldn't try to bust you!" Selina growled as she started tearing through the penthouse packing up their belongings. "Do you have a spot in mind for a safe place to hook up?"

"No, Wayne didn't call the cops. In the process of trying to track down the Batman I caught wind of the Beast's plan to pump small pox into the stands at the baseball stadium." Dick ran a red light and almost got smacked by a semi truck. "Whoah, nearly bought it there."

"What?"

"Never mind. Just get out of town, I'll call you when this is resolved." Dick answered.

"Resolved?" Selina's voice was raised. "You better not be playing hero again!"

"Sorry Sel, it's what Dad would want me to do."

"This isn't helping an old lady across the street Dick, this is a disease that's wiped out civilizations! John definitely wouldn't want you to be doing this!" Selina was nearly yelling.

"Sorry, mind's made up Cuz. Wish me luck." Dick smiled as he ended the phone call with a push of his thumb. He had finally arrived in the vicinity of the park and pulled his bike into an alley to park it behind a dumpster. It would probably get messed with, stolen or towed, but right now that didn't matter. He unzipped his jacket but left it on and hanging loosely over his red shirt, and removed his cowl, carrying it under his arm as he walked out of the alley and toward the front of the stadium. "No ticket; they'd never let me through security with this stuff even if I had one." Dick muttered as he rolled the cowl and gave the utility belt hanging loosely around his waist a shake. "How to get in?"

It was then that he noticed the sounds of a distant copter becoming far less distant. He stepped away from the building he was standing next to and looked up into the sky to see a black helicopter, one clearly made for the military, swoop out of the sky and slowly come to a landing on the roof of a building across the street from the stadium. "Get the hell out." Dick muttered as a smile came over his face.

He watched Batman leap out of the copter, aim his grappling gun at the stadium, fire a hook and the next moment he was flying over the heads of the hundreds of people watching him from the street. "OK, gotta admit that was the coolest thing I've ever seen in my life." Dick muttered.

He then flipped open his jacket to get a better look at his belt. Seeing his another grappling gun of his own, he slid the cowl back over his head, pulled the gun, aimed it up near where the Batman had shot his, and fired a hook into the third floor rafters of Hill Field. The teenager gulped as people turned to see where this new hook had come from and looked at him. He smiled at them and winked at one very attractive woman. "Beats what the scalpers are charging." With that he hit the retract button and flew into the sky. A second and a half later he found himself careening toward the concrete he was hooked into. Not sure how to operate the device correctly, he let go and did a flip through the air, over the fence and landing gracefully on the cement floor inside the ramp leading to the upper levels, to the amazement of over a hundred onlookers who were still in shock at seeing Batman land in front of them just a few moments before. Dick looked up and grinned at the stunned onlookers.

"What are you doing here?" Batman, who had sprinted up the ramp to the next level but stopped at noticing the arrival of Dick, snarled at the youth.

"Helping people!" Dick snapped back as he ran to where Batman was standing.

Batman turned away from the boy and raised a communicator to his mouth. "Section F-14."

"Freeze!" A pair of police officers pointed their side arms at Batman, but one quickly shifted his aim to cover Dick.

"Put those weapons down!" Jim Gordon pushed through the crowd. The two cops saw him and immediately complied. The Commissioner walked toward Batman, but locked his eyes on the smaller masked man. "Who's this?"

"Just another dead man!" They all turned to see the mask less KGBeast walking toward them through the crowd, an automatic weapon in his right hand and the blade extended out of the box on his left wrist.

"Anatoli Knyazev?" Gordon asked.

"Yes." Batman confirmed and then turned to the two police officers. "Evacuate these people!"

"Do it!" Gordon reiterated the order before they could even look to him for confirmation. "Wait, you…" The Commissioner pointed at one of the officers. "Give me your gun." Gordon took the weapon and then turned to Batman. "I've already called it in. Homeland Security will likely be taking the reins soon."

"It will be too late!" The Beast shoved through several people and took aim at Batman with his firearm. A bat-shaped throwing blade wedged itself into the barrel opening the moment the weapon was level.

The eyes of Gordon, Batman and the Beast all turned to the smaller masked man who had thrown it. Dick turned to Batman and shrugged. "Boris."

"Of course." Batman muttered as he remembered the knife thrower from the circus.

"So I take it this guy really is with you?" Gordon asked.

"Long story." Batman replied as he started squaring off against the approaching Beast, but he momentarily diverted his attention from the Russian to reach into his belt, pull out a small earpiece and an accompanying mouthpiece, and tossed them to Dick. "Plug these in and stay in contact…Robin." Batman barked out to the boy. "I need you to get to the utility room in the bowls of the stadium and make sure the water isn't turned on!"

"No, I've got the KGBitch, you go keep the water off!" Robin snarled.

"Do I need to remind you of the stakes here?" Batman growled. "Do as I say or leave!"

"Pathetic Americans, whatever you do, thousands of your countrymen die!" The Beast started laughing as he tossed the firearm away and slipped on his reinforced mask. "The rain falls in eight minutes." He then pulled out a cell phone and waved it. "Unless I demand it sooner, and even if I choose not to, only a tiny fraction of spectators will be evacuated in that time."

A grappling hook shot out from inside Batman's cape, speared the phone and drove it into the cement wall behind the Beast, causing the phone to shatter to pieces. Batman then turned to Robin. "Seven minutes! Move!"

"Actually, he said ei…"

"Move!"

"Uh, not sure where…" Robin started to mention.

"Earpiece!" Batman roared as he and the Beast charged each other, the Beast swinging savagely with his blade and the Batman blocking with his armored gauntlets. "Jim, go with him!" Batman grunted between strikes.

Dick slid the earpiece under his cowl and rested it into his ear. He then clipped the mouthpiece on the cowl near his mouth. "Uh, hello?"

"There are service stairs fifteen meters to your left." Fox's voice came through the earpiece. Robin started sprinting to them, with Gordon trying to keep up with him. "Fourth compartment to the right of your buckle houses an electronic skeleton key, swipe that through the lock." Dick did as instructed and the door clicked unlocked. The boy pulled the door open and raced through, throwing it wide open for Gordon, who got there just as it was about to close. "Descend the stairwell all four floors to the bottom."

Dick leapt over the rails, covering all eight sets of stairs of the four floors in a matter of seconds. Jim peered over the handrail at the newcomer and marveled at his speed and agility. He also scoffed at the idea that he was supposed to keep up. "Jim, go with him?" Gordon imitated Batman's gravelly voice. "I think I'd rather fight the Cossack." But despite his grumbling, Gordon ran down the steps as quickly as he could.

Robin used the key to open the door at the bottom, and started to run but paused. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his motorcycle keys, and wedged them into the space above the middle door hinge to keep it open for Gordon. "I'm gonna want these back, Commish!" Dick yelled back up the stairs. The only response he could hear as he sprinted down the hall was the older man's heavy breathing.

-

The voice over the loud speaker directed the throngs of people to make their ways up the stairs and toward the nearest exits in an orderly fashion, and with few exceptions, the spectators were doing just that. But it would be well past the Beast's eight-minute mark before a meaningful portion of the baseball fans would be safely away. One section suddenly got a lot less orderly as the KGBeast, having a firm hold on Batman with one hand and his eighteen-inch blade clasped between Batman's upper arm and side, barreled through dozens of people and out of a tunnel into the stands. He hurled Batman into the seats, the Dark Knight bouncing and rolling over the tops of several rows before falling to the ground between two rows.

The Beast bounded onto the seats, landing and balancing himself on a pair of chair-backs. He scrambled to where the Batman had fallen, but as he drew near Batman suddenly emerged from the ground, grabbed the Beast and hurled him over his head toward the seats below him. The Beast landed heavily, and Batman was on him in the blink of an eye. The two grappled, causing most of the people to panic and flee more hastily, while many others stopped to watch the fight, unaware of the impending danger.

Gravity-aided momentum carried the brawl down over and through the stands toward the field. "Time is ticking, Capitalist. Are you really willing to die in a clearly failed effort?"

Batman dodged a swipe with the blade and replied with a straight right that sent the Russian stumbling back. "I'm always willing to die in an effort to save others. Are you really willing to die for no discernible gain other than causing death and pain to others?"

The Beast, who appeared to be tiring, leapt over the side and onto the field. "General Burgasov provided me with the immunization to this strain. All that will happen to me is that I will become wet."

"And your men?" Batman followed after him onto the field.

"A placebo." The Beast replied as the two men began trading blows once again. "They will do my bidding thinking they are protected. They will be easily replaced."

-

"OK, out of darts. What else do I have?" Gordon heard Robin say to apparently no one up ahead in the distance. "No, used all the gas earlier. I overheard Benson talking to you, he can tell you all about it later." Gordon, who was carrying a set of keys and a leather jacket, which had been left to keep doors ajar for him, finally reached the masked boy, breathing extremely heavily, and dumped the boy's possessions on the floor next to him. He had crossed the paths of several dead maintenance worker and security guards, as well as nine unconscious men that he figured to be thugs taken out by this Robin. The would-be hero turned and smiled at him as the lawman leaned against the wall next to him. "Hey Commish, 'bout time." Robin then turned his head to chance another look around the corner down a hall to the utility room. He jerked his head back as a couple of shots ricocheted against the concrete walls. "Got three of them defending the utility room."

"How…how much time do we have?" Gordon forced out between gasps.

"Ninety seconds more or less, and I'm out of stuff to throw at them." Robin replied. He cocked his head, as he seemed to be listening to something. "Naw, that's gone too." Robin then looked down at the sidearm in Gordon's hand. "Can you get low and give them something to focus on? Keep their eyes from shifting upward?"

Both Robin and Gordon looked up to see the pipes running just below the ceiling, along the halls and toward the utility room. "You've got to be kidding."

"Come out now or we're turning the sprinklers on!" One of the three gangsters yelled out.

Robin took the belt off and slid it around the corner. "Alright, here are my weapons." He then whispered to Gordon. "Catch them and keep them off guard." He then cocked his head again and smiled before yelling back to the criminals. "Wait, let me get my belt back. You're not going to turn on that water. The Beast inoculated you guys with nothing but sugar-water. You set off the sprinklers and you're just as doomed as everyone else." Dick nodded to Gordon. "Boost?"

Gordon shook his head but complied, quietly placing his gun on the floor, lacing his fingers together, letting the boy put his dark gym shoes in his hands and hoisting him up to reach the pipes above. The child effortlessly swung himself around to the top of the pipes and silently shimmied over them and down the contested hallway. Gordon then grabbed his gun and called out. "This is Police Commissioner James Gordon. Slide your weapons forward and come out with your hands up!"

"Whatever Batfag!" Was the reply that Gordon both expected and got. Jim crouched low, twisted around the corner and fired off three rounds in the general direction of the thugs. "Jeez, he's using a gun." The startled voice yelped. A moment later the gangsters were firing back. Jim leaned back away from the corner, waiting for a chance to fire back around again. "Shit, watch ou…!"

Gordon heard a thud, the ceasing of gunfire, and then the sounds of scuffling. The Commissioner turned the corner, gun pointed straight ahead and finger ready to squeeze, but paused as all four men were virtually on top of one another. A moment later the boy's skill with hand-to-hand combat became apparent as one thug dropped to the ground clutching his throat and another had his right knee buckle from a thrust kick and the body it was supporting collapse to the ground. The third gangster turned and started back toward the device presumably designed to set off the sprinklers, but Robin grabbed his back collar and yanked him back hard enough to bring him to a horizontal position over the concrete floor. The man fell straight down, the back of his head slamming hard enough to concuss the man and nearly leave him unconscious. "Freeze!" Gordon yelled, covering the three downed criminals.

Robin jumped into the utility room and went straight for the one piece of equipment that didn't look like decades-old plumbing. The bright white device had a digital read-out that was counting down from seventeen. "Seventeen seconds and I don't see any red wire to cut so I'm yankin' the sucker!"

"Or you can simply close the main water valve…" Fox suggested.

"Oh…yeah, I guess I could do that too." Dick muttered as he stepped away from the device. "Of course, you know how bad the restrooms of a major league park smell when the water's running, imagine how funky it'll be without flushing."

"Large circular valve on the big pipe against the wall to your left." Fox instructed, ignoring the child's attempt to lighten the situation. "Counter-clockwise until you can't twist any further."

Dick quickly complied. "OK, sealed. But I still have time to yank the detonator or whatever you call it before the clock runs out. You see any problem with me indulging in a James Bond moment?"

"Knock yourself out kid." Lucius responded with a chuckle. "But make it quick. Police are already surrounding the stadium and Batman's a little too busy to recover his transport."

"Ahh, so you need me to get to the choppah?" Dick replied, the last four words done with an Austrian accent before grabbing the conduit pipes connecting the device to the electrical fire controls, planting a foot, and yanking the device out as the counter clicked to four. Dick dropped the device to the floor, turned to Gordon, who was punching in a speed dial code with one hand and keeping his gun leveled on the downed thugs with the other, and gave the man a mock salute. "Pleasure workin' with ya' Commish, but I've still got work to do."

"Wait." Gordon said as the masked young man trotted past him. "How old are you anyway?"

"Apparently old enough to fly a helicopter." Dick smiled before turning and sprinting away.

Gordon watched him leave, shaking his head, but snapping out of his thoughts as whomever he was calling answered. "Yeah, Bullock, I'm down by the water utility room. I've got three goons covered and the hallway leading here is littered with nine others who might be waking up soon."

-

Both men battered away at each other around the pitchers mound as police and government agents swarmed into the stands. "I hate to tell you this Anatoli, but we've rolled past minute ten and still not a cloud in the sky." Batman taunted the large man.

The Russian snarled as he charged the Batman, fully intent on impaling him on his blade. Batman evaded the strike, but was fully cognizant of the large number of law enforcement personnel approaching his position. His opponent was gassed, but the chances of his escape were dwindling.

-

The three police officers cautiously walked out onto the roof of the apartment building and trained their guns on the attack helicopter. "This is Chomicz, it looks like a black Comanche, an empty one. We're approa…" His statement was cut short as a gun-like object lowered from underneath the copter and positioned itself so that it was aiming toward the stadium, where Batman had originally shot his grappling hook. The three police officers immediately scurried back into the stairwell for cover. A moment later a hook was launched, leaving a line connecting the copter to the stadium.

Robin emerged from the stairwell he had originally gone through to get downstairs; his belt and jacket already back on him. He was pulling a device out of one of the rear compartments on the belt. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure this is it." Dick hoisted himself over the railing and landed on the ramp where he had originally landed in the park, running up to the cord embedded into the concrete wall that was across from the opening that led to the helicopter on the building across the street.

"Freeze!" Dozens of police in either direction yelled out at Robin as they stormed toward him.

Robin snapped the device over the cord. "OK, I just press the red button and hold tight, right?" The response came through, a clearly urgent one. "OK, OK, I'm going!" The teenager pressed the button and the device carried him quickly out of the stadium, over the bustling street, and toward the roof. Unfortunately the underside of the Comanche wasn't high enough for him to clear the roof, so he was forced to swing his body sideways and hoist himself over the edge, rolling across the gravel on the roof.

He finally came to a stop as the three police slowly emerged from the stairwell again. "Freeze!" But Robin was already up and running for the copter's cockpit, the line that had been shot cut from the grapple launcher and the launcher retracting back into the body of the copter.

The boy jumped inside and took the stick. "OK, in need of a flight lesson here!"

-

The blade whizzed right by the side of his head, and Batman immediately put his counter into effect by palming the flat side of the blade at its base with his left hand, raising his arm, forcing the Beast's arm up in doing so, and then driving his right palm into the larger and more fatigued man's straightened elbow, breaking the arm. Batman then swept the Russian's legs, and the moment the crime lord hit the ground the dark vigilante drove his heel into the man's nose, breaking that as well. The fight was all but won, but he looked around to see that the cost was his freedom. The dozens of cops surrounded him, all with weapons drawn.

Now that they saw the Batman devoting more attention to them, the police approached more cautiously. "Alright Batman, there's no escape. None of us want to harm you, but we are going to be taking you in."

The sounds of helicopters had been in the air for quite some time, with both news and police helicopters circling the stadium, but now the thumping blades were getting incredibly loud, and everyone on the field looked up and saw why. The black stealth helicopter lowered, and Batman immediately drew his grappling gun, lowered the compressed air level to minimal, and fired up into the underside of the vehicle. The retractor of the gun pulled him up and he braced himself against the landing pads, expecting the helicopter to speed away. But instead it flew backward and hovered.

Batman then heard whir of the chain gun positioning itself and targeting something. Batman immediately knew what it was being aimed at. "Patch me through to Robin, now!" Fox immediately complied, and Batman spoke into his communicator. "Look Robin, I know what you want to do, but you can't do this. You've evolved past this. You're not a killer."

"Don't worry Batman, I'll turn myself in, and I'll keep your secret." Robin replied. "This is just something I need to do."

"No, it's not!" Batman yelled over the sounds of the blades. "There are few things I'm more thankful for than the opportunity to kill my parents' murderer being taken away from me. I didn't know it at the time, as the gun slid into my waiting and trembling hand, but not being able to kill that monster kept me on the right path. It made me into a better person. It kept me from becoming someone my parents would be ashamed of."

Robin sat in the cockpit, his finger trembling over the trigger that would grind the KGBeast into chunks of bloody meat. "Is this what they would have wanted for you? Can you see them looking down on you now? You've just saved the lives of tens of thousands of people. Your father is bragging to God himself about what a great kid he has, your mother is shedding tears of pride. But if you do this…what do you think their reaction will be then?"

Tears rolled down the cheeks of the masked pilot as images of his parents looking down on him filled his head. "Robin…please, you can't do this!"

"Batman…" Robin's shaky voice came through Batman's earpiece as the helicopter rose to the sky and turned out over the city. "Shut up already."

Batman smiled as he hung on tight. "You got it pal." The vigilante then looked out over where they were. "Alright Reynard, instruct Robin to hover over the roof of Lantern Electronics on McCallen Road. Once I'm through the manhole there I can vanish into the sewers. Then have the kid run aerial route two, that should be adequate to shake any pursuit, especially in this thing."

"Aerial route four might be better for shaking the police and press copters." Fox suggested.

"Don't you think route four is a little aggressive for a first time flier?" Batman questioned.

"Naw, kid's proven to be a pretty fast learner." Fox replied.

-

"OK, clear these people out of here!" Jim Gordon and his officers pushed their way through the crowd of press and baseball fans toward the heavily secured ambulance. Behind them was the captured and unmasked Anatoli Knyazev, his broken arm braced, but still bound to his side. His other hand was strapped to a harness around his waist as well, and his shackled ankles were shuffling him behind the Commissioner and other police. "Move it!" Gordon called out as he was forced to push through a pair of network cameramen himself.

Gordon was relieved of the shoving as several officers formed a wedge in front of him and cleared the path entirely. The Commissioner turned and glared at the man would came so close to killing thousands of his charges just an hour before. The Beast returned his glare, even displaying a malevolent and dismissive grin just as an arrow cut through the air and drove into the Russian gangster's neck.

The thousands of people gathered in the streets outside Hill Field turned toward a rooftop across the street and gazed at a woman in a black cat outfit holding a long bow. Selina smiled down at the dying Beast, sure that her choice of outfit would let him know exactly who it was that had killed him. She saluted Knyazev as blood bubbled out of his mouth, dropped the bow, turned and ran across the rooftop, jumped to the next, then to another and with no one in a position to watch her, disappeared into the building.

--

Dick walked through the park, the sunlight warming his face as he looked at the pond. Kids and older couples all enjoyed feeding the ducks, geese and swans, while he would occasionally pass a happy couple walking hand in hand. Despite the beautiful day, he felt a little uncomfortable in his suit, even with the jacket off and resting over his arm. Then he saw her, sitting in the grass and tossing crumbs at the ducks. It had been nearly a week since he had last seen her in the penthouse, though shots of her in that ridiculous cat costume had been playing almost non-stop on the news. "Hello Catwoman." The boy smirked as he sat down next to his cousin.

"Hello Boy Wonder." Selina playfully snapped back. "Where did you learn to fly a helicopter?"

"Aw, it's not so hard." Dick nudged her with his shoulder. "Grab the stick, hit the gas, no big deal."

Selina wrapped her arm around his shoulders and pulled him tight, kissing him on the top of his head. "God I'm proud of you. What I heard you did, and I'm pretty sure the best parts were omitted. I…" She pulled away and he saw tears in her eyes. "I'm just so thankful you turned out to be the amazing man your parents were raising, despite my best efforts to screw it all up."

"Come on Sel…" Dick started to say.

"No, wait." Selina interrupted. "And I also need to tell you that you were right. Both times, you were right." She peered intently into his eyes. "We don't have the right to kill in cold blood. I killed Zucco and Knyazev, and have been haunted by both. I'm so proud of you that you didn't give in to your hatred."

"I came close this time." Dick whispered. "So close. If I didn't have Batman talking about how Mom and Dad would feel about it, well, you wouldn't be the most wanted woman in New Jersey right now."

"The most wanted woman in Jersey." Selina chuckled. "Having a lakeside discussion with Batman's new partner."

"You're safe from him. And we're not partners." Dick grumbled. "I think I can talk him into making me some sort of an apprentice who might get to see action in seven or eight years. A possible replacement when he decides to hang up his wings."

"Yeah, like you have the patience for that bullshit." Selina laughed. "Well if the Batman isn't hunting me, and the cops have no idea of who the Catwoman is, then I see no problem hanging here for a few weeks while you pick up a few new moves and a line on where to get some of Batman's gear. We'll take off when our welcome starts wearing out."

"Uh, Selina?" Dick's eyes were darting back and forth as he contemplated how to drop a bit of bad news. "I kind of have an opportunity that I'm thinking I want to take. Kind of a long-term thing, if things pan out I'll be sprouting roots in Gotham."

Selina gave her cousin a look of disbelief. "What?"

Dick exhaled heavily. "Look Sel, why don't we stay? I'm sure you can carve out a nice little slice of…whatever here in Gotham too."

Selina's stare and look of doubt remained fixed as her head started shaking. "No. What, take some office job? Be a secretary for some fat prick who'll expect me to perform some of his wife's duties in addition to dictation? No Dick, we can stick around for you to milk this Batman gig for a while, but we will be hitting the road at some point. Hell, this should be easier for you than me. You're a circus Gypsy for Christ sake, roots aren't in your vocabulary!"

Dick swallowed and looked down. He knew that the news would not be met with cheer, but he had hoped that Selina would be able to accept it. Unfortunately that was turning out not to be the case. "Look Selina, Batman's hooked me up with some corporate guardianship program being introduced by Wayne Enterprises. They're taking twelve orphans who have performed well academically. He doctored some transcripts for me and I blew the entrance exam away, so I'm in if I accept…and I've accepted."

Selina continued shaking her head. "No. No! Absolutely not!" She grabbed his shoulders and gave him a light shake. "Look, I understand. This is all new, and the Batman seems cool, and the first male authority figure you've had since your father died. And I'm sure he's told you about all sorts of great opportunities, but it'll lose its luster. None of that matters, the life we've carved out is what matters!"

Dick stood up and stepped back away from her. "What, stealing from scumbags? Talk you out of stealing from decent people?" He peered down at her, a bit of anger creeping into him. "You've done more for me than anyone else in the world Selina, and given up everything for me. I'll never forget that, and I'll always love you. But stealing isn't my calling. Helping people is, both as Robin and as Dick Grayson. And the way to do that his here." He winced at the hurt in her eyes. "I'm sorry if you can't accept that, but it's the way it needs to be."

"No…" Selina whispered.

Dick started baking away. "I'm keeping my cell number. Call me if you want to talk or meet." He then turned and headed back to his motorcycle in the parking lot.

The stunned Selina remained seated for a couple of minutes staring at the water before finally getting up and heading back to the parking lot as well. She had taken about fifteen steps in her trek when an old man who was sitting on a bench and feeding the ducks called out to her. "I imagine it's always tough when little robins grow up and leave the nest."

Selina turned and peered intently at the old man. "What?" A snarl came over her face as she walked over and sat on the bench next to him, glaring at the man. "I wonder what he'd think about you following him here."

"It wasn't him that led me here." The old man replied.

Selina pursed her lips. "How dare you steal him from me?"

The bearded and bespectacled old man turned his head slightly and glanced at the woman through one eye. "It is the best thing for him."

"Bullshit! I look at what that young man has become, and it'd be difficult to imagine him turning out any better. I'm far from perfect, but however I was doing it, I was doing a damn good job raising that boy. And you took him away."

"What do you think he is?" The disguised Batman snarled. "Some sort of puppy whose sole purpose is to accompany you on your adventures?"

"And what purpose do you have for him?" Selina snapped back heatedly. "To offer the gun-toting thugs you hunt a new target while you sneak up on them?"

"I have no intention of putting him in harms way until he's more than ready to deal with it. And I'd never endanger him for my sake!" Batman snarled. "And for someone who forced him to a life of running from organized criminals and made him an accomplice for her thievery has a lot of gall throwing stones!"

"All that's changed, we can do whatever we want now." The woman growled.

"Yes, the murder of Knyazev, it wasn't motivated by hatred or revenge, was it?" The Batman questioned.

"Oh, hatred and revenge were most definitely present, but yes, the main reason I had to kill him was so that he would never get a chance to kill Dick!" She glared at the old man. "Even if he never connected Robin to Dick, he still has a hit out on the circus boy son of John and Mary Grayson. With him dead, the hit is void."

"Yes, which is the only reason you're not in custody right now." Batman replied. "For the kid's sake I'm letting you start with a clean slate. By all means continuing being a part of his life, but you will honor his right and desire to live his own life and follow his own path."

The woman stood up, fuming. "You took what I valued most away from me. Trust me when I tell you that I will be getting even." The woman stormed off, leaving the old man alone with his ducks and an engagement he was at risk of being late for.

--

Lucius Fox peered over the crowd gathered in the Wayne Enterprises lobby, a crowd made up primarily of press, city and civic leaders and various WE employees. Behind Lucius were eleven teenagers that had been selected as the inaugural batch for the WE Corporate Guardianship Program, an idea that was more than two decades old but that had been shelved until a few days ago. Fox gave a scolding look and tapped his watch as the twelfth candidate, Dick Grayson, trotted into the lobby and took his place behind the CEO. Lucius smiled. At least Dick wasn't as tardy as their boss. Oh well, he'd have to start without Bruce. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to thank you for coming. I'm pleased to announce the creation of the Wayne Enterprises Corporate Guardianship Program, a program whose purpose it is to guide motivated teenage orphans and provide them with an environment and opportunities that they would not otherwise have access to."

Bruce walked into the lobby behind the throng of onlookers listening to Fox lay out the details of the program and introduce and describe each of the corporation's new wards. One of the reporters raised his hand. "Mr. Fox, with Wayne Enterprises basically…adopting these kids, where do you plan on housing them? And who will be their actual parental figure?"

"Mr. Wayne has graciously offered to dedicate the Gotham Century Towers apartment complex as the dorm of the Corporation's charges." Fox directed the onlookers to Bruce Wayne standing behind them, who all applauded his donation of the building he had been living in for over a year. They then turned back to allow Mr. Fox to answer the rest of the question. "Mr. Wayne still plans on retaining the penthouse for himself, but the remainder of the building will be for the children and their caretakers, foremost of which will be Harriet Cooper, formerly the head of our Corporate Daycare Program, now Director of this Guardianship Program." A woman in her fifties stepped forward and smiled at the gathering before stepping back to where she was. "Each of the young men and women will also be assigned rotating mentors made up of W.E.'s corporate officers to offer them further guidance. Now, are there any other questions?"

-

Lucius had handled the questions with practiced ease and the conference had seamlessly shifted into a pleasant banquet. Dick smiled at Alfred as the Englishman approached and handed him a list. "What's this?"

"A list of your meal preferences." Alfred smiled, the smile broadening as the young man read over the list with obvious disapproval.

"Cream of wheat…plain? Egg white omelet with spinach?" Dick looked through the pages made up by his healthy meal options before glancing up and shaking his head. "You've got to be kidding."

Alfred smirked. "Enjoy."

Bruce then approached the boy. "Alright, we'll start your training tomorrow. I'm going to let you know right now that it's going to be more intense than you can imagine. The silver lining is that you're free to be as rigorous as you want while helping me hone my acrobatics and gymnastics."

Dick smiled and nodded, but the smile faded as he looked past Bruce. Bruce noted the shift in attention and turned to see what Dick was looking at. Leslie Thompkins was there, sending them both a glare as she approached them. She finally reached them and immediately started into Bruce. "I can't believe what a fool I've been."

"Leslie, what are you…" Bruce tried to calm the woman down.

"Stop it Bruce." Leslie held up her hand. "I remember what an intense and focused child you were, both before and after your parents' death. Do you really think I can reconcile that with the carefree playboy you've supposedly become? Especially since seeing all the scarring on your body?" She then looked at the teenager. "Do you really want him to be as riddled with wounds as you've become?"

"Look, Leslie, you really have me at a loss." Bruce raised his hands defensively.

"Stop it!" Leslie growled. "I've half a mind to have you locked up right now!" She looked down and shook her head. "But damn it, I guess you can't argue with results." The older woman visibly relaxed and looked at the floor. "The day after the small pox scare I ran the numbers. Had the two of you not stopped those men…" Leslie looked up into Bruce's eyes. "Well, the body count would have been mind boggling."

Bruce knew better than to try to deny it further. "So where do we stand?"

Leslie looked at the two crime fighters. "I'll have to think about that. But whatever the case, if either of you sustains anything more than a sprained ankle, you're to give me a call. Got that?"

Bruce smiled. "Not a fan of my stitch work?" The question only got a grumble as the doctor turned and walked away. Bruce looked away to the window to see his red Roadster idling on the street with Catwoman sitting behind the wheel glaring at him. The two locked eyes for several moments before she sped off.

He turned to see that Dick had witnessed it as well. The kid shrugged. "I didn't tell her."


End file.
